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"joyfull" poems
On a clear sky night The sound of harmonica dancing By the angles of the Moon Drum pounds  widespread Waves floating in an ecstatic pace The quiet bay listened with radiant Shells Star specks lit sky humming The Earth murmuring deeply Pines reverberating in back chorus Kids giggling around trippin' in thick dark Tripping over some minor rocks, happy to Embrace the unexpected music, dogs wiggling Heavenly carousel shining upon their faces Theater dreaming  of the joyfull now This exuberant laughter unsyncopated Steps rhythm fading on their paths Instruments put down, sounds of Crickets, bare naked, two plunges
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May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
Harmonica and Drum
One face looks out from all his canvasses, One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans; We found her hidden just behind those screens, That mirror gave back all her loveliness. A queenin opal or in ruby dress, A nameless girl in freshest summer greens, A saint, an angel;--every canvass means The same one meaning, neither more nor less. He feeds upon her face by day and night, And she with true kind eyes looks back on him Fair as the moon and joyfull as the light; Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.
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1.8k
In An Artist's Studio
this dim light room you protest the error which must be why your here but not even a flicker of interest passes the faces gather in the moment digest its very essence with an eye to its taste and texture can it be such that while you see the logic thouse around only see the flaw you protest the confusion she laughs dull witted and mutters that confusion isnt allowed without proper paperwork therefore there is no confusion sit down and shut up you stand and try to leave the hired hand stops you with a gentle hand no friend we cant have that sit down go with the flow the tragedy is in her eyeless watching she just lingers there in the shadows with a television at full volume cartoons of americas empire building days running marathon back to back with the guy who teaches how to paint one a masterpiece of tragedy the other a tragedy of masterpieces life is a ironic love affair of joyfull young pretty college girls and the bitter old men they hide dogeared books of poems tucked inside old leather jackets misery need not apply
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Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 8:39 AM UTC
medicated mothball
my hands believed in you satisfied by little to none I could have gave them to anyone little white pedals laying stagnant on each fingertip revelations of the flowers you helped blossom in my impotent heart how can I explain something provoking veins inside the blood of my emotions when I didnt even know blood flowed through anything but my physical body a cemetary of memories lie abyss somewhere inside of me like the joyfull living praised when there but never appreciated enough until souls bid farewell the hour of separtion came to me as something that was dream like something that couldnt be real a few days pass almost placidly flowing over my being and then it comes expected lament, this piece of land inside me is not vast containing many souls some meaningless and some worthy rather it is appressed and compact with little space for the memories at rest intertwined helping me remember together in yearning harmony the grass is so green over every grave the sun never sets but the flowers have disappeared yes the flowers they are dead
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Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 2:39 PM UTC
Garam
Down in meadows where sweet grass grows by the inch by moolite -a girl I  know she would stroll.. quietly ,barefoot and beautiful. Flowers and rose petals filled the air as she strolled to valley.down.deep. this girl I know who couldn't sleep. she.strolled.to the green valley way down deep. Nite breezes whispered sadness of love adrift like the echoing bubbly,babbling brook as cool grass mingled with achy feet she walked her cares to the valley down deep. This lady I know is lovely and rare and full of sudden sweet surprise. Like the ones that sparkle from her sleepy eyes. I think she is layered and her sorrows are deep and her pain she does keep quiet and hidden Way down deep. So, I somtimes wonder and conjure  what it be to hold her hand ,put her head on my shoulder sing a lullaby low and deep and stroll together on the winding path that would take us by starlite and moonlite and gentle brook to.lay us both down  in clover and Jasmine. stroke her brow and whisper.her away to sleep in the peacefull valley with windmills up on the hills. That  place in her joyfull surrender in the green valley way down deep This woman I know is soft as surrender and tough as iron but the girl inside still dreams the wistfill fairytale ending while doing and going and fixing unending. Regret like a stone on her shoulder, head bowed and sweet.she has kept to the task but now weary for rest and gentle persuasion. There's a place in the gloaming where dreamwalkers meet a misty suspension. A warm sunny place a snow capped and glistening winterland an azure briney ocean and sand. Sahara of rippling sand like sweet music rippling forth from a merciful harp that draws her up upwards and aloft  to soar and skim in freedom then she sails the Caribbean trades with the wind in her hair still dreaming wide awake.. she.sits on the bow and seaspray carresses her hopes . Salty misy and cool and she dreams in a dream inside of contemtment unending. Then soars aloft again infitfull sleep then plunges to depths of secrets well kept to.the valley so green and so deep. To the valley The valley of sleep. To green meadows In the valley.down deep.
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Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
Down Deep
Down in meadows where sweet grass grows by the inch by moolite -a girl I  know she would stroll.. quietly ,barefoot and beautiful. Flowers and rose petals filled the air as she strolled to valley.down.deep. this girl I know who couldn't sleep. she.strolled.to the green valley way down deep. Nite breezes whispered sadness of love adrift like the echoing bubbly,babbling brook as cool grass mingled with achy feet she walked her cares to the valley down deep. This lady I know is lovely and rare and full of sudden sweet surprise. Like the ones that sparkle from her sleepy eyes. I think she is layered and her sorrows are deep and her pain she does keep quiet and hidden Way down deep. So, I somtimes wonder and conjure  what it be to hold her hand ,put her head on my shoulder sing a lullaby low and deep and stroll together on the winding path that would take us by starlite and moonlite and gentle brook to.lay us both down  in clover and Jasmine. stroke her brow and whisper.her away to sleep in the peacefull valley with windmills up on the hills. That  place in her joyfull surrender in the green valley way down deep This woman I know is soft as surrender and tough as iron but the girl inside still dreams the wistfill fairytale ending while doing and going and fixing unending. Regret like a stone on her shoulder, head bowed and sweet.she has kept to the task but now weary for rest and gentle persuasion. There's a place in the gloaming where dreamwalkers meet a misty suspension. A warm sunny place a snow capped and glistening winterland an azure briney ocean and sand. Sahara of rippling sand like sweet music rippling forth from a merciful harp that draws her up upwards and aloft  to soar and skim in freedom then she sails the Caribbean trades with the wind in her hair still dreaming wide awake.. she.sits on the bow and seaspray carresses her hopes . Salty misy and cool and she dreams in a dream inside of contemtment unending. Then soars aloft again infitfull sleep then plunges to depths of secrets well kept to.the valley so green and so deep. To the valley The valley of sleep. To green meadows In the valley.down deep.
Continue reading...
15
Why - you asked For the sake of a Born and raised Romantic poetry! To individuums! To lions drama! Ontic ouroboro Levitates lesser Symbols equally Time de-ploring Overwhelmed n' Joyfull character E x t r a c t i n g Timelessnesses..
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Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
instalation dominion
I only met you a short five years ago in that time we have shared many things happiness as we walked under the willows sadness as we ran from the rain laughter at one another's simple jokes but most importantly we have shared one thing no other could feel our secret of love love for each other as we began simply as friends sleepovers and movie nights to bring us together stolen kisses in the middle of a storm holding hands in the dark of night but no one knows our simple secret we are in love a joyfull love for eternity forbidden
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Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Dear Best Friend
my hands believed in you satisfied by little to none I could have gave them to anyone little white pedals laying stagnant on each fingertip revelations of the flowers you helped blossom in my impotent heart how can I explain something provoking veins inside the blood of my emotions when I didnt even know blood flowed through anything but my physical body a cemetary of memories lay abyss somewhere inside of me like the joyfull living praised when there but never appreciated enough until souls bid farewell the hour of separtion came to me as something that was dream like something that couldnt be real a few days pass almost placidly flowing over my being and then it comes expected lament,
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Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 8:39 PM UTC
halfway to my kingdom
She is the foam of the sea Untouched and innocent Smooth dancing on the waves Every so slight movement making her seem vulnerable But still in the most dominant way She is slim so she can fit into the distance between his fingertips when he spreads his arms to beg for her She is drowning him He is inferior He is the travelling wave Never loosing his feeling of rythm Playing the same song every day Dancing to it Looking for his perfect match I am the puzzled Sand Sticking to everything but nowhere wanted Uneven, rough and misshaped An offence to every coast I am out of place He is an unfinished artwork Beautiful look of imperfection A clear water beast Rising explosive and Settleing gentle She loves the song he sings It's like he is singing to her The foam clings so good to the shifting water And together they create The perfect sea Every edge uncurling The unremarkable sand in their way But with every dance they dance in union Parts of me are teared apart And send to every cardinal direction By the fair-minded elements Until nothing of the sand remains So the sea is eventually merged Joyfull dancing and singing The song of freedom and affection She is the foam of the sea and he is the travelling wave I am washed away
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Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
I am washed away
Rustling branches, falling leaves ,silently they fall Carpeting the winter grounds Large oak trees standing tall Whispering winds echoing clear The highest pitch I feel you near I think I hear you I turn around I search but nowhere To be found I walk to the park our favourite place Every step we took -I trace I find our tree ,our names enscribed Behind it you often used to hide I miss your smile Your warm embrace Your loving touch Beautiful face Such joyfull memories "Still "! each winter brings I feel your spirit When the robin sings.
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Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
When the robin sings
A little girl with braids in her hair . Her sparkling eyes, and joyfull smile . She sits in a garden teaming with life . Her guardian angel sits by her side . She raises her hand to touch the breeze. And to her surprise a white dove flys down to greet . A peaceful creature ,her new best friend. It lays upon her hand with grace. A timeless bond a fleeting sight . A moment wrapped in gentle light . .
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Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 11:38 AM UTC
A pure encounter .
There on the wrinkled landscape Of  topographical coloration I blast two staccato echoes A subtle shrill arpeggio at fade out So subtle a difference that I can't say I hear it Though I am the director Of that whistles orchestration Far across the valley bottom camouflaged by pattern They will appear somewhere among that sea of white The receivers pop up in mirrored action Tiny pinpoints of color among the sea of white I don't need to be able to see them to know The exchange of glances anticipation of coming attraction This is what they live for.... that call to attention As they await like teenagers or #45 for another tweet Glancing now at each other and aware Of that growing sense of  anxiety among their charges My hesitation stemmed from viewing all the Majesty But I am aware from way up here of the tension below And with the valleys steeped in ever darkening shadow The two miles trek to the awaiting gate and the holding pen I blow a quick quip to start Sas  and Rocket to bring em in Then as if of 1 mind they lead em home ...leading from behind An  addiction to action where by  almost supernatural Is their ability to move by nip and slip around the throng Attentive to any wayfarers lost in transit Encouraging less enthusiastic or lost youngster to move along Sending the adolescents screaming in terrorized panic As they are  absorbed into the mass of slow moving wool And only after the last one of them passes thru ...do The pair allow themselves ...with the closing of the gate That romp of triumphant joyfull play as they await their reward They will receive for their day of working like a dog That bowl of food that awaits them is secondary to the real prize To that smile and well done pat on the head or belly scratch From their beloved master for that is really what they live for!!!
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May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 1:25 AM UTC
Across the valley
There on the wrinkled landscape Of  topographical coloration I blast two staccato echoes A subtle shrill arpeggio at fade out So subtle a difference that I can't say I hear it Though I am the director Of that whistles orchestration Far across the valley bottom camouflaged by pattern They will appear somewhere among that sea of white The receivers pop up in mirrored action Tiny pinpoints of color among the sea of white I don't need to be able to see them to know The exchange of glances anticipation of coming attraction This is what they live for.... that call to attention As they await like teenagers or #45 for another tweet Glancing now at each other and aware Of that growing sense of  anxiety among their charges My hesitation stemmed from viewing all the Majesty But I am aware from way up here of the tension below And with the valleys steeped in ever darkening shadow The two miles trek to the awaiting gate and the holding pen I blow a quick quip to start Sas  and Rocket to bring em in Then as if of 1 mind they lead em home ...leading from behind An  addiction to action where by  almost supernatural Is their ability to move by nip and slip around the throng Attentive to any wayfarers lost in transit Encouraging less enthusiastic or lost youngster to move along Sending the adolescents screaming in terrorized panic As they are  absorbed into the mass of slow moving wool And only after the last one of them passes thru ...do The pair allow themselves ...with the closing of the gate That romp of triumphant joyfull play as they await their reward They will receive for their day of working like a dog That bowl of food that awaits them is secondary to the real prize To that smile and well done pat on the head or belly scratch From their beloved master for that is really what they live for!!!
Continue reading...
36
Waking with this warm Trembling in my soul Dreams of you lingering Carving your image Deeper into my heart Such beautiful painful longing Aching through my entirety Everything hard and pounding Pressing and seeping Love and lust and life From every pore Flowing like Madness over the moon Flames acroos the sun Filling the void between Every star in the sky And my mortal eyes Spelling out your name And hushed cries And joyfull tears Buried with the secret Whispers I've repeated Into my pillow Clutched gently in My shaking hands As every morning I wake with this Warm trembling In my soul
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May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 5:30 AM UTC
Warm Trembling
**I'd rather write a moody poem that has found it's home Than a joyfull one with no place to go**
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Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 10:02 PM UTC
Untitled
I really cant see the good in myself, and I'm not doing to well with my emotional health. sat hear thinking of years long ago, a time way back when joyfull months would go slow. a long while back, before my mid teens, when life seemed simple filled with prospects and dreams, a smile would follow a feeling inside, and now the smile is there but something has died, none of us learn to laugh or to cry, that comes to us natual like the stars in the sky. and the mountings and ocean, perfect emotion, perfect beings no internal corrosion. we are all born a mirrical and as from day one, the light shines bright to help guide us along. But as i grew older and thought I new best, I egnoed those I loved and followed the rest. my life choices all wrong, once drugs came along, but the desire to use was always so stong. only happy when using, body and mind I'm abusing, destorted thinking and life seems very confusing. as time passed by i never stopped getting high, still unaware of the damage inside, now I sit and I sy, wanting to cry, but the tears inside me seem to have dried. so I become aggressive n i shout, because it needs to come out this only further hurts those that I care about but as I sit all alone and i look at the sun, it reminds me that when the rain ends then change can be done. and change must be made because I know ov this much, I no longer want to be out of touch...
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Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
out of touch
The mighty wind of change that carried me all along always urging me to search for being true truer truest to who I really am. The mighty wind of change that I have sometimes cursed when it caught me off guard until I realized it blows from within and everything it brings I have wished for deep inside. The mighty wind of change blows through the branches of the trees. The leaves and birds just play along showing me how joyfull the mighty wind of change is. Once again.
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Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 8:51 AM UTC
Mighty