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"jovial" poems
As the days grow cooler now, I start to face the question, How? It’s been so long that I can’t hear your voice, But as the day draws near I'm left with little choice. To tell you now just how it was, That you took my heart and then hit pause. You never knew and I don’t blame you for that, But in misdirected anger I still hissed and spat. On that day - so late in November, The sights the smells - your smile I still remember. Merry and Jovial we relaxed by the pool, The evening breeze welcomingly cool. As the sun set and the sky filled with stars, I started to feel like I was heading for Mars. The feeling was alien overwhelming me so, A feeling of love … I couldn't let that show! And I’d never let it go! It tore at my heart and split me in two, Surely this could not have been all because of you? It’s closer now the time we’ll meet again, I know it won’t be easy - a meeting of pain. I have my plans and I'm sure you have yours, But I'm not going to force open those doors. I’ll tell you my truth on the hold that you had, It was not a craze or in passing a Fad. It was what it was but I want to move on, But that’s now not to say that I want you gone. Understanding and Acceptance is part of us all, It’s just how you cradle the rise and the fall. It was never your fault it was me through and through, I should have just come out and said it to you. I loved him then and would have given my all, But time and again I stood up just to fall. I’ll never forget you I don’t think that I could, But moving on is something I should. I'm not looking for feet sweeping kisses and a lifetime together, I just want you to know my life isn't over.
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Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
***Reunited...***
As the days grow cooler now, I start to face the question, How? It’s been so long that I can’t hear your voice, But as the day draws near I'm left with little choice. To tell you now just how it was, That you took my heart and then hit pause. You never knew and I don’t blame you for that, But in misdirected anger I still hissed and spat. On that day - so late in November, The sights the smells - your smile I still remember. Merry and Jovial we relaxed by the pool, The evening breeze welcomingly cool. As the sun set and the sky filled with stars, I started to feel like I was heading for Mars. The feeling was alien overwhelming me so, A feeling of love … I couldn't let that show! And I’d never let it go! It tore at my heart and split me in two, Surely this could not have been all because of you? It’s closer now the time we’ll meet again, I know it won’t be easy - a meeting of pain. I have my plans and I'm sure you have yours, But I'm not going to force open those doors. I’ll tell you my truth on the hold that you had, It was not a craze or in passing a Fad. It was what it was but I want to move on, But that’s now not to say that I want you gone. Understanding and Acceptance is part of us all, It’s just how you cradle the rise and the fall. It was never your fault it was me through and through, I should have just come out and said it to you. I loved him then and would have given my all, But time and again I stood up just to fall. I’ll never forget you I don’t think that I could, But moving on is something I should. I'm not looking for feet sweeping kisses and a lifetime together, I just want you to know my life isn't over.
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38
her eyes glistened with the light of a thousand stars. they told me she was not enough. her scars were painted across her canvas called skin - each one unique to itself. they desperately cried out for help. her glossed lips smiled softly, pulling her ****** features into a jovial facade; allowing a melodious voice to fill the air it said "i'm okay, thank you for asking." - v.m
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Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
she speaks
Blades of grass shivered As the fingers of the wind strum A hum ever soft and hauntingly serene Sweetest song my heart reluctantly would welcome I stare into the minuscule expanse of land The horizon does not exist far here... But still my eyes would stretch To see the obscured very clear All alone save for the company of a lone tree And the jovial chirps of annoying birds On this island with very little space Trying to find comfort in ill-arranged words My eyes do see but my heart remains obstinate Beauty of the universe would always invite I could just jump and join in its merriment But... I am just a tethered kite I'd want to rise to the highest skies To be one with the nature's song, composed and tuned Alas bound to a string, I can only go so far I am my own island,                       helpless and marooned...
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Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 7:02 AM UTC
Marooned
bathed in the cool light of the moon, my sweet puppyhead and me, sit. under the full soft light,  her ray’s illuminating the yard, the woods. footsteps crunch drying leaves, fox, deer or foe? waning canopy, boughs lighter each day. fall, majestic, peaceful dying for another year. plants and creatures,  taking refuge in the deep dark void of mother earth, of mother nature. squirreling away tidbits for a late winter snack, coats blooming, thickening. such delight,  each night, sitting outside, my puppyhead and me. quiet and solitary, no humans  annoying me. silent and still only nocturnal creatures meandering about. what magic, what sacredness. what mystical delight. never apart, only the ONE. such silly confusion, thinking a person, separate and small, quaking with fear. the big deep dark mystery laughing and jovial, always here, here for us all. open your eyes,  feel your nature, always here, never apart. fearing death fearing life, what a silly way to live this life! the moment you were born, you began dying, what a relief, knowing the score! relaxing into the madness, laughing at it all, pure and free, forever more,  and not…… being, not being, eons of reflection, sages and rishis revealing the truth, it can’t be done for you, only you can become  that which you are…. that which you always were. my sweet love, my sweet life, my puppyhead and me, sitting here in Fall. ~~~
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Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
Moon filled, Early fall morning
Genial poets, pink-faced earnest wits— you have given the world some choice morsels, gobbets of language presented as one presents T-bone steak and Cherries Jubilee. Goodbye, goodbye, I don’t care if I never taste your fine food again, neutral fellows, seers of every side. Tolerance, what crimes are committed in your name. And you, good women, bakers of nicest bread, blood donors. Your crumbs choke me, I would not want a drop of your blood in me, it is pumped by weak hearts, perfect pulses that never falter: irresponsive to nightmare reality. It is my brothers, my sisters, whose blood spurts out and stops forever because you choose to believe it is not your business. Goodbye, goodbye, your poems shut their little mouths, your loaves grow moldy, a gulf has split the ground between us, and you won’t wave, you’re looking another way. We shan’t meet again— unless you leap it, leaving behind you the cherished worms of your dispassion, your pallid ironies, your jovial, murderous, wry-humored balanced judgment, leap over, un- balanced? ... then how our fanatic tears would flow and mingle for joy ...
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5.3k
Goodbye To Tolerance
Take me to Vienna where the music walks. Where the buildings invite you to sit, And accompany them for a cup of melange. Where the many palace gardens have jovial pique-niques, With their bikes resting by the trees. Take me to Vienna where life ebbs out Where the past lives on, And composers wave out the windows. Take me to Klimt's golden city, The city where even the grey Donau is welcoming. Take me to Vienna and don't take me back.
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Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 3:05 AM UTC
Take Me to Vienna
There lives a woman who Seems mystical, even mythical --It is true-- Because she is biblical; Rarer than a precious jewel. She is virtuous She is loyal She is courteous... She is royal. She shines brilliantly, like a star cluster trapped inside a room. She glistens like jubilant sun rays dancing atop the ocean. The wind of her voice sets inspiration in motion, Like a sonic boom. She is powerful. She is virtuous, Who is worthy? Just Wonder & coil In a corner & toil As you ponder this. And honor this Acknowledgment, Because she is royal. Don't dare compare her to the likes of Nefertiti or Isis. They are not so estimable, You couldn't buy her even with a million zeros before the decimal, Because... She is priceless. So the King adorned her, Because the King adores her. She is beautiful, so they say, But such a meager word could not suffice, Because her true charm emanates like waves In the ardent expression of her practice of life. And from her mind and her soul. Her precious heart--more precious than gold-- Looks like a kaleidoscope of rare gems, Darting dazzling colors; the spectrum in whole. Diamonds die in comparison, Hand her a diadem... She is special She is jovial She is gentle She is royal. She is not haughty, Nor does she flaunt like worldly wenches do. She tells girls who've been told they're peasants they can be a princess too. She is not naughty, Nor does she taunt like wanton vixens do... Because she is godly. Yes, indeed there lives a woman who Seems mystical, even mythical --But it is true-- She is virtuous, She is royal... She is you.
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Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
She is Royal
There lives a woman who Seems mystical, even mythical --It is true-- Because she is biblical; Rarer than a precious jewel. She is virtuous She is loyal She is courteous... She is royal. She shines brilliantly, like a star cluster trapped inside a room. She glistens like jubilant sun rays dancing atop the ocean. The wind of her voice sets inspiration in motion, Like a sonic boom. She is powerful. She is virtuous, Who is worthy? Just Wonder & coil In a corner & toil As you ponder this. And honor this Acknowledgment, Because she is royal. Don't dare compare her to the likes of Nefertiti or Isis. They are not so estimable, You couldn't buy her even with a million zeros before the decimal, Because... She is priceless. So the King adorned her, Because the King adores her. She is beautiful, so they say, But such a meager word could not suffice, Because her true charm emanates like waves In the ardent expression of her practice of life. And from her mind and her soul. Her precious heart--more precious than gold-- Looks like a kaleidoscope of rare gems, Darting dazzling colors; the spectrum in whole. Diamonds die in comparison, Hand her a diadem... She is special She is jovial She is gentle She is royal. She is not haughty, Nor does she flaunt like worldly wenches do. She tells girls who've been told they're peasants they can be a princess too. She is not naughty, Nor does she taunt like wanton vixens do... Because she is godly. Yes, indeed there lives a woman who Seems mystical, even mythical --But it is true-- She is virtuous, She is royal... She is you.
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56
‘A festive song for thy ears’, Sang the jovial busker; Brimming with gratitude, With pennies of silver Or the coppers from well-worked hands, The heavy gold of the rich; Once weighed down pockets Generously giving. ‘A festive song for thy hearts’, Sang the jovial busker; Playing with precision, With clarity and care Or the subtlety of pristine art, The blending sound of the voice Soothingly warming.
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Feb 5, 2022
Feb 5, 2022 at 12:50 PM UTC
December Pennies
bespeckled, blotched & blokey feminine in aspects only little ****** hair patches two chins, or rather a sloped one the front evenly declining to the middle of the throat a gradual slope from the tip, for juices to run if his manner and situation allowed him to be as casual and sloppy as his laziness chose, torso without form, so there was no curvature on the buttocks or the fly region. a mass a blob of bulges on spindly legs he leans on the wall stubby in hand he balks (he means jovial but unintentionally he vocalises mockery) at the suggestion that the Pies will do better & that Eddie is a clever man due for thanks, who has done his club well (apparently a straight Aussie arrow tried and true!) the man ***** his head back & cackles (the trebly popping bubbles of a gala crackle outwards as the man cackles) & decides his arms need a rest, (a long day of up and down they have had indeed, they deserve respect, or rest (or a benching)) so he places his beer down on a sloped surface, & therefore it slips down…. he sees it plummeting, he stretches toward it's tragic trajectory, …..but he is too slow it smashes on his foot (the shards) the beer bottle it transfigures, and the shards they impart their misery on his toes. The shards they intrude on his relaxed state of wellbeing, they intrude on the security sanctioned within the casual footwear of a man at a barbecue; taking it easy. he swears and hops, reaching in indignation for his bleeding toes he holds the wound cursing; resisting the impulse to begin convulsive throws (an oscar worthy performance from a usually suburbaly urbane individual) the moisture feels degrading (as it would within a man's pants) the pain from the cuts it is worsened by the smirking gazes of others about he hobbles, disregarding his thong in the wreckage of the scene off to retrieve a band aid to mend his ego and his foot simultaneously
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Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 10:18 AM UTC
the barbecue
bespeckled, blotched & blokey feminine in aspects only little ****** hair patches two chins, or rather a sloped one the front evenly declining to the middle of the throat a gradual slope from the tip, for juices to run if his manner and situation allowed him to be as casual and sloppy as his laziness chose, torso without form, so there was no curvature on the buttocks or the fly region. a mass a blob of bulges on spindly legs he leans on the wall stubby in hand he balks (he means jovial but unintentionally he vocalises mockery) at the suggestion that the Pies will do better & that Eddie is a clever man due for thanks, who has done his club well (apparently a straight Aussie arrow tried and true!) the man ***** his head back & cackles (the trebly popping bubbles of a gala crackle outwards as the man cackles) & decides his arms need a rest, (a long day of up and down they have had indeed, they deserve respect, or rest (or a benching)) so he places his beer down on a sloped surface, & therefore it slips down…. he sees it plummeting, he stretches toward it's tragic trajectory, …..but he is too slow it smashes on his foot (the shards) the beer bottle it transfigures, and the shards they impart their misery on his toes. The shards they intrude on his relaxed state of wellbeing, they intrude on the security sanctioned within the casual footwear of a man at a barbecue; taking it easy. he swears and hops, reaching in indignation for his bleeding toes he holds the wound cursing; resisting the impulse to begin convulsive throws (an oscar worthy performance from a usually suburbaly urbane individual) the moisture feels degrading (as it would within a man's pants) the pain from the cuts it is worsened by the smirking gazes of others about he hobbles, disregarding his thong in the wreckage of the scene off to retrieve a band aid to mend his ego and his foot simultaneously
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40
Soothing, sensational, elegant as the harp, Semblance, integument, covering of the tarp, Ebullient, vivacious, precision of the mind, Vehement, appetent, keen & one of a kind, Perfervid, chocolate katydid, desirable & luscious taste, Delectable, ambrosial, palatable & consumed with haste, Sybaritic, voluptuous, enticing to the senses, Libidinous, hedonic, enriched untightened hinges, Efficacious, puissant, robust delight to the eye, Potent, consequential, immeasurable symbol of the sky, Pulchritudinous, gorgeous, magnificent as the autumn sun, Resplendent, vivid, lustrous as a diamond-lithographed gun, Sympathetic, affectionate, condoling soul of a angel, Altruistic, benignant, warmhearted with no mangle, Serenity, tranquility, composure of divine peace, Harmonious, amicable, placid as the slow moving creek...
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Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
Jovial Thoughts, Genial Mind...
To my boss, I'd like to dedicate This jovial kind of poem though It really turns my stomach Knowing that I know him I'd like to feign concern For all his woes and cares And pat him firmly, on the back Atop a flight of stairs When he goes on holiday I like to wish him well And hope he's going somewhere warm Like the furnaces of Hell He meets with lots of people Such as his clients and bookkeeper Why can't he meet someone new? Like for instance, "The grim reaper" If he should pop his mortal coil That would not make me grieve The thing that ticks me off the most Is, he shares the air I breathe He bores me with his witless jokes They're no cause for celebration The only time he'll make me smile Is at his burial or cremation Nobody seems to like him That's not open for debate I suspect when he's behind closed doors He likes to … err… fiddle
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Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 5:24 PM UTC
Ode to a good boss
pets are hours of fun, feathered finned and furry ones pets are hours of fun, feathered finned and furry ones their antics do amuse, owners love them to bits their antics do amuse, owners love them to bits owners love them to bits, feathered finned and furry ones their antics do amuse, pets are hours of fun **** playing with a skein of wool, Rufus chasing his tail **** playing with a skein of wool, Rufus chasing his tail their capers never fail to get a laugh, what a show he puts on their capers never fail to get a laugh, what a show he puts on what a show he puts on, Rufus chasing his tail **** playing with a skein of wool, their capers never fail to get a laugh behind the air filter goldfish dart, such a jovial spectacle behind the air filter goldfish dart, such a jovial spectacle budgerigar hop scotching on her perch, they're natural born entertainers budgerigar hop scotching on her perch, they're natural born entertainers budgerigar hop scotching on her perch, behind the air filter goldfish dart such a jovial spectacle, they're natural born entertainers they're natural born entertainers, feathered finned and furry ones their antics do amuse, pets are hours of fun budgerigar hop scotching on her perch, **** playing with a skein of wool behind the air filter goldfish dart, Rufus chasing his tail such a jovial spectacle, what a show they put on their antics never fail to get a laugh, owners love them to bits
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Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
Pets (Paradelle & Marian's #2 Challenge)
Come on over and sit right down The storyteller has come to town. So many stories I have acquired and that's a fact....I keep them hidden in my knapsack in a book that's white and black. This a story about you.......It was a day just like this .....a total stranger came to offer you A gift. It was wrapped in the most beautiful paper one has ever seen. The workmanship was awesome.....some would say prestine. He leaned on his cane .....due to a bad leg. He hurt it one night wrestling until the early morn......he also received a gift like a mother who cuddles her newborn. So ....as he leaned upon the cane and lit his corncob pipe ....and blew smoke in the air. The extravagant gift was placed on the chair. He said "This gift that is contained in this box is something that everyone wants." " You have have been chosen to receive this gift." "You don't have to take it.....you can give it to another.....if you chose. Although....it wouldn't be wise to make such a move." The gift is still sitting in that chair......should I open it or leave it there? A potential to change my life and end the strife I face on a daily basis. This isn't a deserted scene where you will see a thirst quenching oasis. My basis for this story is about choices.....you have so many voices guiding your every thought......sometimes we chose wisely......and other times not so much. These are the occasions when we lose touch or sight between right or wrong......the consequences for that wrong selection.......will have me singing a sad song. If I chose wisely the day will be a lot easier to travel...not a perfect ride.....but I will arrive with all my bags in tow. Chose wisely ........ So....he gathered his belongings and blew a smoke ring in the air.......and hobbled off into the distance. He hummed a jovial tune and yelled back that he would return soon. The Storyteller...........
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Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
Storyteller
Come on over and sit right down The storyteller has come to town. So many stories I have acquired and that's a fact....I keep them hidden in my knapsack in a book that's white and black. This a story about you.......It was a day just like this .....a total stranger came to offer you A gift. It was wrapped in the most beautiful paper one has ever seen. The workmanship was awesome.....some would say prestine. He leaned on his cane .....due to a bad leg. He hurt it one night wrestling until the early morn......he also received a gift like a mother who cuddles her newborn. So ....as he leaned upon the cane and lit his corncob pipe ....and blew smoke in the air. The extravagant gift was placed on the chair. He said "This gift that is contained in this box is something that everyone wants." " You have have been chosen to receive this gift." "You don't have to take it.....you can give it to another.....if you chose. Although....it wouldn't be wise to make such a move." The gift is still sitting in that chair......should I open it or leave it there? A potential to change my life and end the strife I face on a daily basis. This isn't a deserted scene where you will see a thirst quenching oasis. My basis for this story is about choices.....you have so many voices guiding your every thought......sometimes we chose wisely......and other times not so much. These are the occasions when we lose touch or sight between right or wrong......the consequences for that wrong selection.......will have me singing a sad song. If I chose wisely the day will be a lot easier to travel...not a perfect ride.....but I will arrive with all my bags in tow. Chose wisely ........ So....he gathered his belongings and blew a smoke ring in the air.......and hobbled off into the distance. He hummed a jovial tune and yelled back that he would return soon. The Storyteller...........
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Oh ROSE! How immeasurably I adore you! So expressive, you are! Eloquent and evocative! Robed in red, you say to the world, “I love you,” And speak all about courage and respect. In white, purity and innocence are your names; Then you’re a bride, heavenly, and in silence; You’re clothed in secret silence and youthfulness, And humility that commands world’s reverence. Your pink is happiness; dark pink says “thank you”; In yellow, it brings joyfulness and friendship; With red added, the world would fall in love; And orange—it’s full of desire and enthusiasm. Red-and- yellow is jovial; peach, modesty; Coral is desire; and lavender, love at first sight. But you’re never black, for you know, it is sad. How gifted a poet you are! A great symbolist! A bud in red is purity and loveliness coupled, One in white, emerges elegantly as a girl in her teens; And a bud, if thorn-less, calls for love at first sight. Oh, your magic tricks! How great a conjurer you are! If single, you’re devotion; twin says, Marry me; Six, suggest need to be loved; eleven says, Truly loved; While in thirteen, you say I’m your secret admirer. Oh! It’s wizardry! So overwhelming! So breathtaking!
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Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
ROSE: MY SWEET ROSE
I keep on staring at the stars, Thinking about the days I passed! Fakeness has filled our place, As if loyalty doesn't exist. Rumours has occupied the way, To make me feel completely lay. Gobbles up my jovial spirit, Still a pedestrian gets no merit! Storms appear to roll me within, Somehow saved myself from deep drowning. Flew away even the beam of light, When in darkness, I searched for thou. But then from the back held my hand, The footsteps approaching I heard in my way. Back I turned to catch the sound, Another betrayal was waiting around. I still keep on staring the stars, Thinking all about the days i passed!
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May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
---Betrayal---
If you're reading this I'm either dead or in Dallas I have to catch a train and a plane all at the same time L to the A to the JFK My getaway Like a cemetery I'm dying to get into that lone star state I've missed the wide open spaces My family and friends smiling faces A bathroom to call my own and a home with multiple rooms to roam From Dallas I extend my gratitude to the families I wasn't born to but made My boys in Austin from 3306 who took me in when a woman sent me packin' Dr Mills from New Orleans handin' out red beans, rice, and thrills If it wasn't for the Rich I'd never have seen Florida or Vegas The wild spirit, she who must not be tamed from Colorado My California kin that took me in and fed me from your tables, so kind (of you) to let me drink your wine All of you, Thank you, I am truly blessed, For my families across the U.S. Even though I'm here for just a week I already miss my Brooklyn family deep in the Mes They're making Thanksgiving happen without a kitchen Cooking away their stress, making more out of less Back to Dallas I came I'm jovial to be home But it's not the same For I have grown Because of the support My new families have shown I love you all Wherever you are Across the country
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
My Family Lives Across The Country
Confide in me the irony of laughter as a crutch to keep with self descriptive Bildungsroman in view of Schadenfreude's Ad hominem Mask the image, compensate, compensate Power struggle, shift division, relegate, relegate Egocentric discharges inhabited by identity crisis Circumstantial Deus ex machina, plastered on by streams of vices No wreck, no head on, but a path beset by tolls and diversions Somehow I must find a way to make these scattered routes converge Dead and othered language roams the fields of pomposity More ironic self aggrandizement, an appropriation of ferocity Paint them a picture in the mind's eye of your blurred forward vision I want to see the target marked, but attention is a competition I'm Viable, I'm Jovial, I have the means to take these chances I'm lying now, it's one or the other, let's hope I make the right advances
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Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
Jovia/ble
Catch my mooring rope And come ashore with gentle tugs, Sweetly, softly, nibble on my ear, And run your fingers over my weathered sails. Trace the notches on my docks, For the places I’ve been – Santorini last spring, Venezia, Marseilles in the fall. Get rid of the doubt that hangs Like an albatross around your neck, Capsizing fears sending tremors up my bows. Simply breathe like the swelling tide, And sing a sailor’s song, The one about the Spanish ladies, “For we will be jolly, and drown melancholy, With a health to each jovial and true-hearted soul.” Loosen my knots and we’ll drift out to sea, Two travelers with one home.
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Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
The Mooring Rope
Mingle with the genial bowl The Rose, the ‘flow’ret’ of the Soul, The Rose and Grape together quaff’d, How doubly sweet will be the draught! With Roses crown our jovial brows, While every cheek with Laughter glows; While Smiles and Songs, with Wine incite, To wing our moments with Delight. Rose by far the fairest birth, Which Spring and Nature cull from Earth— Rose whose sweetest perfume given, Breathes our thoughts from Earth to Heaven. Rose whom the Deities above, From Jove to **** dearly love, When Cytherea’s blooming Boy, Flies lightly through the dance of Joy, With him the Graces then combine, And rosy wreaths their locks entwine. Then will I sing divinely crown’d, With dusky leaves my temples bound— Lyæus! in thy bowers of pleasure, I’ll wake a wildly thrilling measure. There will my gentle Girl and I, Along the mazes sportive fly, Will bend before thy potent throne— Rose, Wine, and Beauty, all my own.
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2.6k
Translation From Anacreon: Ode
Here's to old friends, sometimes lovers, lost causes and occasional jovial drunkenness. Here's to vices and virtues, to living without apologies or regrets. To breaking in order to heal. To the lost who have given up on finding a way home. Here's to survival. Drink up, people. You only live once. Eat slow. Love hard. Live every moment like you mean it, or you might as well be dead.
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Jan 8, 2011
Jan 8, 2011 at 9:33 PM UTC
Toast
Jackrabbits jetting joyously through Juneberries. Jovial jumpers.
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Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 1:14 PM UTC
J is for Joy
If dark is so bright and so pure and so naive, Then dark is what I want, What I want and desire, and suffice in me, What I want to cure my crave, Through the curves of innocence and words unspoken, Through the politeness of the laugh, The words and works of the purely courageous, The big hearted and lovely person you are, And where to start and what to say of the love you share with the doomed in ways, The curing and healing by your starring eyes, The glare of that wondrous smile, A wanderer in the race of players, The guide I wish I could steal, That perfect eveything that you carry, In the treasure box inside your peels, Inside your peels, Inside your skin, Is an angel poured from Lord’s brim, A pretty soul, A stupid chum, The thing I have fallen for is the cherubin’s grim. What beauty I speak I wish I could show, Coz every time I see you, I see a world of Jovial.
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Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 1:12 AM UTC
Love so deep
Jovial mess on bed encapsulates heartburn diarama a fresh coat Bismuth Business man with codeine red sweet stains on his dockers 3am Dharmic ranting "job well done Wednesdays" and "feel good Fridays" Moronic howling immediacy immediately vibrating cell walls within the twenty-something aged voice box device. Burly chest galavant push up to get the muscle fat lean, and impress upon the natural on-and-on leave the face unscathed along Have to be outside Outside where it's most safe ascend the incline just before the nightshade lose your technology in the primordial Koi Fish Pond in oxymoronic fashion and let the nature of this dream leer at you from the area down below.
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Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
Twenty-Somethings
*It’s raining, drizzling I am walking in the rain. The heavens are weeping gracefully Their faces hidden from sight I dance and prance in the rain In jovial nonchalance, lost in thought Wondering, marveling and wringing my mind dry Why the heavens are beside themselves In such an out-pour of emotion.*
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May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 7:01 AM UTC
Rain, rain go away.
You were jovial, Effortlessly happy and Forever wanting. I was Christmas morning, A time so covered in lights and bows That even darkness gets gift-wrapped. It hides behind frames Made empty by time And beneath the hats of red-clad alcoholics Making empty promises To wide-eyed little strangers who swear... They've been extra good this year. A reprieve so emotive That it could only ever be temporary. Like the love for that toy you begged for for months And only played with for five minutes. A memory so fond it hurts. Thrown into the back of your mind With all the other lost toys.
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Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
Lost Toys