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"italics" poems
~a question of a thousand dreams~^ “Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness?  Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see” this one composes itself for all dreams go unremembered the first, the thousandth, the  every in between, erased by the push button of opening eyes but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting, leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come in black and white elementary clues, a pillow indentation, single hair that stretches across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red   but certainly unmine,   dregs of soured sentiment linger like the aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers heated summers breezes give no succor or relief, and the rain following gives no pleasure, for now you are hot and soaked, but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed, and eyes widening in major league surprise, the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted   she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair, and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain, and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated and what you do and what you see is the abraded night ahead, and you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think, the question answered, and you beg relief by uttering “perchance to dream” 3:49 pm see the notes!! someone accuses me of Plagiarism because  I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago so here is my response to “just saying” congratulations on ******* me off and yes I agree, you do not know the rules “#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume  that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“ http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
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Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
a question of a thousand dreams
~a question of a thousand dreams~^ “Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness?  Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see” this one composes itself for all dreams go unremembered the first, the thousandth, the  every in between, erased by the push button of opening eyes but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting, leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come in black and white elementary clues, a pillow indentation, single hair that stretches across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red   but certainly unmine,   dregs of soured sentiment linger like the aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers heated summers breezes give no succor or relief, and the rain following gives no pleasure, for now you are hot and soaked, but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed, and eyes widening in major league surprise, the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted   she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair, and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain, and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated and what you do and what you see is the abraded night ahead, and you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think, the question answered, and you beg relief by uttering “perchance to dream” 3:49 pm see the notes!! someone accuses me of Plagiarism because  I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago so here is my response to “just saying” congratulations on ******* me off and yes I agree, you do not know the rules “#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume  that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“ http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
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Everything in quotations marks and italics was written by TS Eliot. eyes knowing glossy men, sheer women, creatures, not all artists, but artists, always thus, centrifugal, simple from their core, emanate, resonate, expand the exterior with interior precision sculpting to the interior delve, via brush or limb, pen or music, the exposition, the exploration, the reconstruction of composing one's self, creation and destruction of your own myths movement of arms and legs, sparseness of simplicity subsidiaries of centricity, tributaries of complexity, oriented to their locality the simple purpose of inhalation, to exhale, after transformation, the calculus of thought into emotion: *"the tongues of flame are in-folded into the crowned knot of fire and the fire and rose are one"* the dancers hear the music: *"so deeply that it is not heard at all, but you are the music while the music lasts."* **”Quick now, here, now always – A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well"**
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Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
"A condition of complete simplicity"
i never used to understand why people hid their pop preferences like they might hide a **** room... or like: the toilet paper ran out, so i jumped into the shower story; what's with pop music in older people and getting the embarrassment sticker that says: HI, MY NAME IS JEFF AND I LIKE BRIE POP FROM SCANDINAVIA: nostalgic culmination? death growl dark metal: the frustration apparent throughout: frustrated amateur singers with their strained veiny necks... see that aorta? opera singers? are they even opening their mouths, or is this opera meets Roy Orbison? and by god, that's the case, people are ashamed to actually acknowledge their pop preferences... no wonder Patrick Bateman is fuelled by it... it's very much like that... pop's the foundation in you actually liking music... shame i love music more than women: keeps my sanity... 2 months apart and you can't hear a vacuum cleaner, maybe once a week... maybe... then the radio starts playing some vintage Roxette... Abba who? that's for those aged 40 and above... Roxette is my generation's equivalent. Roxette's masterpiece? Joyride: the entire album, yes, you'll listen to this album like some prog rock feast:           Joyride                 (      :     + italics                                     is the same as bold:           double emphasis                 ) ***** you will! Roxette's Joyride is the epitome of pop!
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Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 7:36 PM UTC
Pop Music and ****
i never used to understand why people hid their pop preferences like they might hide a **** room... or like: the toilet paper ran out, so i jumped into the shower story; what's with pop music in older people and getting the embarrassment sticker that says: HI, MY NAME IS JEFF AND I LIKE BRIE POP FROM SCANDINAVIA: nostalgic culmination? death growl dark metal: the frustration apparent throughout: frustrated amateur singers with their strained veiny necks... see that aorta? opera singers? are they even opening their mouths, or is this opera meets Roy Orbison? and by god, that's the case, people are ashamed to actually acknowledge their pop preferences... no wonder Patrick Bateman is fuelled by it... it's very much like that... pop's the foundation in you actually liking music... shame i love music more than women: keeps my sanity... 2 months apart and you can't hear a vacuum cleaner, maybe once a week... maybe... then the radio starts playing some vintage Roxette... Abba who? that's for those aged 40 and above... Roxette is my generation's equivalent. Roxette's masterpiece? Joyride: the entire album, yes, you'll listen to this album like some prog rock feast:           Joyride                 (      :     + italics                                     is the same as bold:           double emphasis                 ) ***** you will! Roxette's Joyride is the epitome of pop!
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⭐️ **Step I -⭐️ As you can see I have used a ⭐️above (we can use any character/number /alphabet) Step 2- use return key Step 3- The poem in asterisk , which remains the same for italics bold bold-italics Step 4- use return key Step 5- again the character(⭐️) it could be anything And there you get the poem in desired fonts . I tried this in my drafts on Hp and yes it works . Happy posting** ⭐️
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Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 10:04 AM UTC
To change fonts for the poems
***Hear ye! Hear ye!*** Oh how I love concrete poetry! Itching to write and sculpt and mould. Twiddle my thumbs as I thought to myself silently. Reckon I'd render my musings in italics and in bold! ***Hear ye! Hear ye!*** 30 days of concrete, wouldn't you fancy?! These poems, they come in various shapes. Would you consider them "poetic eye candy"? If I fashioned poems to look like grapes! ***Hear ye! Hear ye!*** Awashed with excitement! I can't wait to share! Fantastical, delicious and ultimately succulent! A wonderful spread of such wordy fare! ***Hear ye! Hear ye!*** When is this... GREAT BIG AFFAIR? On the morrow, I'll dish out the first serving! Do tune in if you so do care... 30 days of concrete! The shape fest is beginning!
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Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
Hear Ye! Hear Ye!
stethoscope to this chest reading one of these "dubs" as captions to italics  sometimes, we lead too patient lives, one as receptive the second as disruptive covertly, convertedso to alleviate, vindicate these dial tones exchanged -so to compliment- verses in the clarity of LP vinyl tracks posture within degrees to hear a “Hello?”
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Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 2:14 PM UTC
With out clichés
You weave your stories like the night, stringing the moon with the stars; the finest of pristine pearls, threaded by twilight. Weaving the finest Varanasi silk with life as your celestial loom; laying down gold- and silver-threaded brocade, dormant gardens burst in bloom. Your pen is the philosopher’s stone turning lead hearts into gold; manipulating structure in stunning stanzas, inscribing on hearts in italics and bold. Nodding in acquiescence the sages of the ages, will then add your magnum opus to their papyraceous pages.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
Threaded By Twilight
skipped the chapters in the book of love you on page one swang from the rafters with the morning dove rise the evening sun my letters were bolded yours were second best to none more italics and stressed sentences you a peaceful minded friend more than previous pronoun promised to the end you on stages of laughter agreement to disagree me, i went past the laughter straight fits of arguing apologies and sorries lead me into these trees promise not to skip the page without you next to me
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Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 11:07 PM UTC
More Than Simple Affection
I computer Woken, I push my start button and reboot to the shower For breakfast a bowl of italics, **** no milk, memory needs upgrading Then to my automated job in my automated life My thoughts are in word ,then filed in documents My moods change with every toolbar, features and characters I choose daily from my vast database At 8.59 and 58 seconds precisely I am surfing That vast blackness of space, I am never alone Our names are inscribed on the dark side of the moon On the super highway at full throttle of 32mb My attention was distracted by a **** blue from clip art Suddenly I did not see a stationary font (size 28) After the crash they laid me out on a spreadsheet My life deleted, my soul sent to the recycle bin.
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Jun 18, 2011
Jun 18, 2011 at 8:43 AM UTC
I Computer
my feelings are the splattered inks bold, italics threatening to spill weighing on every meaning words could carry scrambled up, juggled those who’ve yet to feel shall not speak and pray tell, words do you realize what you amount to? what’s behind was for a reason, a person clear as day, solid reverie what lies beneath shan’t remain between the lines and if it reaches you, we’re alike
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Sep 27, 2022
Sep 27, 2022 at 7:01 AM UTC
semantics
Writing always seems more urgent When it's written in italics, Even when the topic, Is rather mundane. Consider this example: I like to eat sandwiches Furthermore, everything Seems much more urgent, When written in bold font, We revisit the example: I like to eat sandwiches ...and a step even further, Writing seems absolutely Crucial when written in, Bold font, with caps-lock, Once again, we recapitulate: I LIKE TO EAT SANDWICHES At this point, it seems as though I am imparting unto you matters Of the utmost severity, that could Be the difference between life and death, ...but really, I just like sandwiches. This amuses me.
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Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:48 AM UTC
Mundane Italics
My thinking is in bold, but my words in lower-case. She dreams in italics, but, unfortunately, speaks in CAPITALS.
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Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
Hopeless Typography
An open letter to those poets who align to the center:                                         *When prose sits in the middle                                          it resembles gift-card drivel.                                              It cheapens your work;                                               your use of italics irks.* Choose a side. I don’t care if it’s left or                                                                                       right,                                                                                   Or center-right                                                                                               or alt-right (whatever that is). The indecisive have a lot to answer for us being                                                                                                         divisive. Did that centered poem you wrote distract you from casting a vote? Stop fence-sitting                                                             in-between and enjoy a splintered 2017,                                                                                                from one side.
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Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 9:22 AM UTC
Center Alignment
An open letter to those poets who align to the center:                                         *When prose sits in the middle                                          it resembles gift-card drivel.                                              It cheapens your work;                                               your use of italics irks.* Choose a side. I don’t care if it’s left or                                                                                       right,                                                                                   Or center-right                                                                                               or alt-right (whatever that is). The indecisive have a lot to answer for us being                                                                                                         divisive. Did that centered poem you wrote distract you from casting a vote? Stop fence-sitting                                                             in-between and enjoy a splintered 2017,                                                                                                from one side.
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We being so hidden from those who Have quietly borne and fed us, How can we answer civilly Their innocent invitations? How can we say "we see you As but-for-God's-grace-ourselves, as Our caricatures (we yours), with Time's telescope between us"? How can we say "you presumed on The accident of kinship, Assumed our friendship coatlike, Not as a badge one fights for"? How say "and you remembered The sins of our outlived selves and Your own forgiveness, buried The hatchet to slow music; Shared money but not your secrets; Will leave as your final legacy A box double-locked by the spider Packed with your unsolved problems"? How say all this without capitals, Italics, anger or pathos, To those who have seen from the womb come Enemies? How not say it?
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2k
The Children Look At The Parents
the names of all the things here were given post creation a redaction full of contents unrelated a conflated epithet brightly shining atop screaming gleaming see me understand what I'm trying to mean in my leaning italics referential and meaningful with research as I lurch into your interest ringing
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Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
Hunting
Duly noted and show boated A cross of what you need And what made your belly bloated Secretly promoted Enthusiastically gloated All for a piece of metal Cold and gold coated Humbly devoted Bold Italics posted Only to line the ranks Heavy and revolted Pepsi and Pop rocks Shoved in a mouth Just to end up Exploded
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 11:55 PM UTC
Pepsi and Pop Rocks
I'm in the bold. He's in the italics. "Well, you haven't spoken to me since xmas so I kinda figured you were done wanting to hear from me." "Yeah, I regret that." "I usually make it into people's regrets, oddly enough." "Don't say that" "I'll say what I want." YOU LIAR.
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Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
I freaking miss you and that's so stupid becuase I hate you but I do
Crippled letters of mass destruction Split my globe in two A left hemisphere full of right handed clones A right hemisphere brimming with sweethearts It's so warm down south Where fingers search For life in the bog Ah, there in the shallows I found your frog
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Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
Italics
I've a particular bias against words that don't conform to the way that appears beautiful to me Works that are right-justified or unjustified or rhyme too much (or little) even just using bold or italics I'm amazed at how I call what I make poems and therefore myself a poet and find nearly no pleasure in most poetry
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Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 4:40 PM UTC
poetic bias
The boys, the boys, they can't help but stare at her as she's talking, she's walking in iambic pentameter She breathes in italics Words fall from her lips San-serif movements Punctuate her hips She writes, she paints, her dreams soak the paper such beauty, such beauty, my willpower waivers Her eyes tell a story in which I want to belong Only she knows the ending as she has all along I wish, I want, a new story to start with her, with her, with all of my heart
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Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 8:05 PM UTC
Overwritten
Before Old Charon I now stand A bushel of berries for this ferryman The guardsman of fate expresses his guilt For the broken promises he has spilt forget the italics of my brash remark ford the wide styx sings the deathly lark a limerick of longing hollows my mind the verbal flogging hardens my heart from the kind
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
toll for Charon
Pushing breaklights, before jumping over the crown, Taking drags, in italics (makes us look like we down). Slouching over countertops, while hard water drops, dreaming of minerals, while the Blacksmith takes benedryl. Receiving kicks, from the ends of steel-toed boots, act a champ, he winks (we're in some sort of cahoots). Tattooed blackeyes, (don't wanna **** with these guys), cool-kid-alert! snorts lines in the dirt. Back with a vengeance, watching Batman and Robin, breaks dishes, because his headache is throbbing. And I look and I see, and it occurs to me, and I forget the rest, because it feels the best. And, I left my dad's gun under my bed.
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Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 6:48 PM UTC
This One
Kiley in italics Just Kyle in regular text Spencer and Kyle in bold And so it begins... At poets I laugh Silly boys with their rhyming here I sit smiling gracefully moving She smiles at my poem I smile at hers. She burns all my books I cry all the time, never over She is my new fav I cry when books burn, Angrily **** those who burn Even my new faves She giggles all day *try to **** but always fail* She will live forever None live forever Though the war will never end. We're back in the game You silly little youngster and second class guys I will always win Powerful, she is yet she has less "class" than we. She cannot beat us two plus three is five Indeed, but two men do not equal that of one woman In their clutter'd brains Women make odd equations that just make no sense men cannot add things men will never understand the ways women speak When girls start to speak All we hear is rabble ra- bble rabble rabble Open up your ears You have lost this game today *I'm done and win, ***** Kiley exits
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Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 3:43 PM UTC
An Epic Battle
(Note: the italics are the narrators thoughts) Dearest Love, Are you okay all alone? I miss you with all my heart. *No, I miss you with all the hearts in the world you are the only fish in the sea for me.* I love it here in paradise.  I just wish it wasn't for work. I hate it here with all my heart.  I dread the lack of your presence. If only you could see the sky as the sun sets. It reminds me of your eyes, and I cry everyday. I hope the distance didn't cause you to forget me and pick another lover, just kidding.  I know you wouldn't do that. You wouldn't... right... cause if you did, I'd die. Well anyways dearest love, I hope to see you soon. I'll book tickets for you now, even if it takes my life savings just to see your face. I wish you were here. Love, More than any quantity of love imaginable. Your one true love. I hope...
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Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 9:52 PM UTC
Wish You Were Here
let me love you like a storm, dark, dazzling, domineering, I can be your very own tempest, I will sweep you off your feet, I will take you to oblivion, and love you like you've never been loved before. I could break you, like cracks in fine china, I could break you, all of you, till you are, nothing, and you will love me for it, and you will be broken in the most beautiful of ways. I could kiss you, I'll be your greatest pleasure, my lips will hold yours with the promise of forever, I will touch you like I am not meant to let go, my fingers will splay algorithms as they explore the length for your torso, You will hate me for it, for make you feel this good, but take heart my love, one day you will kiss me, and you will like it. I could need you, like barks need the north star, I could be your star, I will shine, and twinkle, become yours like the careful ********** of promises, I will never leave, I will be constant, consistent, for as long as we are, I will need you like the stars need the dark blue sky, and some day, when you love me back, we will write our names in skies that stay blue, and we will be our own forever, stripes of dark brown and navy blue. I can be your light, your very own sun, wrapped in skin, bones, and tissue, I can shine for you, hot and passionate, like the remnants of our love on the white fabric of our sheets, I will heat you up, all the way up, but you will not tell me to stop because we love the pain, and we will love, till it kills us, and marks us black and dark blue. I will love you, like you are worth loving. Every inch of you, like you are my life, I will love with my soul, I can be yours, let me be yours?
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 3:27 PM UTC
Italics
let me love you like a storm, dark, dazzling, domineering, I can be your very own tempest, I will sweep you off your feet, I will take you to oblivion, and love you like you've never been loved before. I could break you, like cracks in fine china, I could break you, all of you, till you are, nothing, and you will love me for it, and you will be broken in the most beautiful of ways. I could kiss you, I'll be your greatest pleasure, my lips will hold yours with the promise of forever, I will touch you like I am not meant to let go, my fingers will splay algorithms as they explore the length for your torso, You will hate me for it, for make you feel this good, but take heart my love, one day you will kiss me, and you will like it. I could need you, like barks need the north star, I could be your star, I will shine, and twinkle, become yours like the careful ********** of promises, I will never leave, I will be constant, consistent, for as long as we are, I will need you like the stars need the dark blue sky, and some day, when you love me back, we will write our names in skies that stay blue, and we will be our own forever, stripes of dark brown and navy blue. I can be your light, your very own sun, wrapped in skin, bones, and tissue, I can shine for you, hot and passionate, like the remnants of our love on the white fabric of our sheets, I will heat you up, all the way up, but you will not tell me to stop because we love the pain, and we will love, till it kills us, and marks us black and dark blue. I will love you, like you are worth loving. Every inch of you, like you are my life, I will love with my soul, I can be yours, let me be yours?
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