"joyously" poems
A single raindrop falls from the sky,
depressed in its loneliness as it descends.
It lands and drips down a grassy slope,
alone and forgotten.
A single raindrop falls from the sky.
It falls from dark clouds and gloomy air.
It brings nothing but sadness to the earth below
and desires only to be heard or seen.
A single raindrop falls from the sky,
felt only by a stranger.
It's wiped away, declared a nuisance,
and cast away from existence.
A single raindrop falls from the sky,
mistaken for a tear.
Thought to be from an angel of a lost age.
It merely stirs the dust.
A hundred raindrops fall from the sky,
all lonely but together.
They cause a splash and demand attention.
Still only felt by one.
A hundred raindrops fall from the sky,
unable to quench the earth's thirst.
They disappear, taken by the ground,
embraced for the last time.
A hundred raindrops fall from the sky.
Not a head turns to notice them.
They cry out loudly but cannot be heard,
vanishing as they land.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky.
The clouds gather to watch the spectacle.
They grow darker as they bunch together,
warning those below of the coming.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky
and tap people on the shoulder.
"Come watch us," they whisper before leaving.
Few people are left behind.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky,
looking for an audience.
The people have left and taken their friends
to hide in the buildings they made.
A million raindrops fall from the sky,
and joyously, they sing.
They hit the ground, the cars, the roofs,
and make music for those in hiding.
A million raindrops fall from the sky.
They dance and cheer and smile.
The sun decides it wants to watch.
The light dances with raindrops for awhile.
A million raindrops fall from the sky,
accompanied by rays of gold.
They bring new color to the city of gray
and rejuvenate all of the old.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and makes art upon the ground.
It quenches the earth's thirst and hums in our ears,
dancing to its own sound.
A gentle rain falls from the sky.
People watch with awe from behind glass.
Ignored by many, precious to captivated few.
They long for it to last.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and gracefully sways in the breeze.
It brings forth calmness and a sense of peace.
It blesses the green fields and trees.
A gentle rain falls from the sky,
watched by a child with wonder.
It sends the breeze to lift the child
and brings them out from under.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and splashes on window panes.
It plays with the child and hums sweet tunes
as it makes puddles in the traffic lanes.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and ripples in the water.
A new world created, impossibly calm.
It makes the child an offer.
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and whispers in the child's ear.
"Wait for me. I will return.
I won't leave you alone here."
A gentle rain falls from the sky
and sings goodbye to the child.
The clouds dissipate as the sun takes over.
The departing rain simply smiles.
A million raindrops fall from the sky,
murmuring farewells and goodbyes.
Each gives the child a tender hug
as the color returns to the skies.
A thousand raindrops fall from the sky,
then a hundred, then one.
The single raindrop kisses the child
standing alone in the sun.
No longer do raindrops fall from the sky,
but a child waits for them.
To dance and sing and draw and play,
with the gentle rain again.
Aug 19, 2019
Aug 19, 2019 at 4:07 PM UTC
If Success was Happiness
Then achievers would be glad
But look around and you will find
That many of them are sad
Of course, Achievement gives joy
And excitement, oh boy!
But when our need becomes our greed
To misery, this will lead
The whole world is chasing Success
Everyone wants achievement
Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose
There is no Contentment
Why do people want to succeed?
Why is everyone in a race?
The Truth is that we want to win
So that there is a smile on our face
But though we win, we are not glad
We have money, why are we sad?
Happiness is not money, the sages said
It's sleeping soundly when you are in bed
We hear of suicides in the homes of the rich
If they were Happy, then why this glitch?
Although they are achievers, this fact we know
They are not Happy, their face has no glow
If successful, but unhappy, what is the use?
Winning or smiling, what would you choose?
The purpose of Success is for us to be glad
What is the use of winning, if it makes us sad?
Happiness is something different, we learn
Not just money that we earn and burn
Happiness is built on a foundation of peace
Then we are blissful like waves in the seas
Look around at the people who are glad
They live in the moment, they are never sad
They don't swing from the future to the past
They are the ones whose Happiness lasts
Happiness has no price tag, know this my friend
It's a state of mind where nothing can offend
It's being able to smile, and able to laugh
Not just trying to raise our Success graph
We can't measure joy in dollar and pound
Happy is he who peace has found
Though we may fly the world around
We may be miserable on the ground
Success is not Happiness, this Truth we must know
We may have everything, what's the use of this show?
The truly successful one is he
Who lives with smile, laughter, and glee
If one is Happy, then one has achieved all
One doesn't have to be rich and in fame be tall
One can have little, but if content is he
Then he can live joyously
Achievement gives Happiness, this fact we know
But with Fulfilment and Contentment, does Happiness grow
One who is Happy, doesn't need to win
He has Peace and Joy without committing sin
Joy doesn't need a foundation of cash
One doesn't have to be rich, to enjoy life's bash
Happiness is a simple state of the mind
It comes from being loving, it comes from being Kind
Happiness is Success. It is achieving life's goal
It is being Happy in the heart, Peaceful in the Soul
True Happiness is eternal, not just a moment of joy
It last's forever, it can’t be destroyed
Success is a journey of valleys and peaks
Life is a see-saw, there are laughs and squeaks
Success, unlike Happiness, doesn't last for long
But the truly Happy ones always sing a Happy song
So, Success is not Happiness, Happiness is Success
You may be an achiever, whose heart is not at rest
But though not successful, if Happy you are
Then you are an achiever, you are the very best
Apr 23, 2020
Apr 23, 2020 at 8:26 AM UTC
Through the country paths, I lazily loitered,
watching Nature in its changing hue
straying farther into the interiors,
sundry and sublime vistas came into view.
in response to zephyr’s warm embrace,
the silvery leaves joyously fluttered.
the bees busied themselves collecting pollen
and birds on tree tops merrily chattered
it was the *** end of verdant spring.
summer’s sun stood behind my head.
bleat of sheep was heard from far.
‘Good day to you’….. Someone said.
There stood on the hill, a boy around fifteen
obviously he was of tribal breed.
with a beaming smile, he greeted me
but on walking to him, he ran like a steed
I saw him disappear behind the trees
and enter into a hut tiny as a nest
he lived in the lap of Mother Nature,
far from the city and its sooty dust
being coaxed, he hesitantly came out.
my tone of assurance and pleasing smile,
seemed to have won his confidence
as to a friend, he shared his eventful tale.
pointing to the sheep grazing in the slope,
he said, he earned a living caring the flock.
he stayed in the woods all day long,
feeding and tending his master’s sheep.
from dawn to dusk, through woods and meads,
he leads his sheep, calling them by their name.
un vexed, with simple pleasures he is content
and with a nomad’s life, he seems to be tame
he said, at home he has his invalid mother.
bringing her back to health is his mission in life
on referring to his mother, I watched his eyes glitter
nothing other than her illness posed to him a strife
from every utterance, I could sense his filial love.
even in abundance, while shadows line many faces,
on his visage, hope lingered as a dancing flame
to me he seemed above many, rich in other graces!
While parting, I handed him a little money
pausing unbelievably, with moist eyes
he accepted it, when a breeze passed caressing us
as if over a kind gesture, Nature seemed to rejoice!
May 29, 2018
May 29, 2018 at 9:23 AM UTC
***If I were a Rainbow
The children would run to me
Turning upside down, I would be an iridescent swing,
The children would mount my rainbow wing
Swaying high up in the starry skies ascending on the moon
The children do bunny jumps, counting stars till noon
Awestruck and desirous they pick a few
The colours pink purple orange magenta and blue
Swaying down to the flower garden
They would pick flowers from the boughs laden
Threading in a star and a flower into an ornamental garland
Adorned as neckpieces , running around ,making one happy land
If I were a Rainbow
I would dismember all the semicircles making one hula hoop
The children would gleefully twirl and sway into the enormous loop
If I were a Rainbow
I would become one big ramp
The children would joyously roller skate up and down
Lighting up the ramp
If I were a Rainbow
And all of these came true
I would turn upside down making one radiant smile across the sky
The children would happily smile back at me , waving me good bye***
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 11:49 PM UTC
On the surface
I look like an American
But
I've always felt
I've always known
That deep down inside
I am Italian!
••
For the sake of continuity
I'll still write as Jeffrey Robin
But I am now
SIGNIOR GIOVANNI FRANCESCO BELLADONNA DE LA BAD *** DUDE!
(Oh yeah
I'm Italian Mafiosa!)
••
I feel liberated!
PURE
••
Oh yeah.
There's one more thing
You know how I'm always writing these highly sensitive intelligent poems?
Well
I've looked deep down inside myself and realized that this isn't me!
Deep down inside
I AM AN IDIOT!
A FOOL!
••
Out of the closet!
At last!
Free!
••
This is the first poem I've written reflecting my newer
Truer
Status!
••
••
Let us romp together joyously
To the DEATH CAMPS.
Beyond the Hills!
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
Merry Margaret
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower:
With solace and gladness,
Much mirth and no madness,
All good and no badness;
So joyously,
So maidenly,
So womanly
Her demeaning
In every thing,
Far, far passing
That I can indite,
Or suffice to write
Of Merry Margaret
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower.
As patient and still
And as full of good will
As fair Isaphill,
Coliander,
Sweet pomander,
Good Cassander;
Steadfast of thought,
Well made, well wrought,
Far may be sought,
Ere that ye can find
So courteous, so kind
As merry Margaret,
This midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower.
6.2k
Greetings audience.
I am off my medication now and I am feeling vastly better. Something just cleared my conscious and vascular blockage so joyously. I will not be posting videos due to my camera and devices breaking. No diatribes nor any vitriolic comments were conferred during my time gone throughout my family and my peers, assuming that is the reason I am now healthy (dropping toxic ties). Unluckily, all of my social media was hacked. Refrain from following anything linked with my name. Indeed, I am not here to bloviate, rather to celebrate. Thank you for your cooperation. I will now go play childishly. Farewell. : )
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
(o, holy night)
sweet carols ring throughout the dark
echoing joyously — warm words
wrap their arms around us
with our hearts aglow
we know that we sing
of mercy and goodness
and fulfilled promises
(the stars are brightly shining)
we dance in peppermint winds
against skies ablaze with colored lights
spinning on the water’s surface
but none shine more brightly
than this dawn breaking in me
for come has the One for whom
this weary world’s been waiting
(it is the night)
the air is thick with symphonies of spices
cars glide past us, eager to make it home
children laugh, there are strangers no more
baby born, God of angels and galaxies
distant no more
(of our dear Savior’s birth)
how beautiful this truth -- that
thrill of hope became tangible in a manger
love itself swaddled in cloth
the cry of this child
broke centuries of silence
His eyes bright with a promise
of all things new and glorious
o, how divine
how divine is this night
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 11:17 AM UTC
The moonlight fades from flower and rose
And the stars dim one by one;
The tale is told, the song is sung,
And the Fairy feast is done.
The night-wind rocks the sleeping flowers,
And sings to them, soft and low.
The early birds erelong will wake:
'T is time for the Elves to go.
O'er the sleeping earth we silently pass,
Unseen by mortal eye,
And send sweet dreams, as we lightly float
Through the quiet moonlit sky;--
For the stars' soft eyes alone may see,
And the flowers alone may know,
The feasts we hold, the tales we tell;
So't is time for the Elves to go.
From bird, and blossom, and bee,
We learn the lessons they teach;
And seek, by kindly deeds, to win
A loving friend in each.
And though unseen on earth we dwell,
Sweet voices whisper low,
And gentle hearts most joyously greet
The Elves where'er they go.
When next we meet in the Fairy dell,
May the silver moon's soft light
Shine then on faces gay as now,
And Elfin hearts as light.
Now spread each wing, for the eastern sky
With sunlight soon shall glow.
The morning star shall light us home:
Farewell! for the Elves must go.
4.3k
I stood outside watching the rain slowly melt from the clouds
My porch let me step onto its short pathway, for it knew my thoughts
I stood there and looked up at the sky, being guarded by the small roof above me
I watched as the rain fell silently to the streets and listened as it hit the bushes
I kept waiting for it to change
I kept waiting for it to change me
For it to wash away something deep inside me
I wanted it to wash away any hurt
Wash away the insecurities
Wash away the denial
Wash away the sins
Wash away the thinking of “You’ll never feel the touch of someone in love”
Wash away the scars
Wash away the memories
Wash away the impurities
Wash away
I stood waiting but the rain still poured on my outstretched hands
My hands opening to God asking,”Why me?”
The hands of a woman who has never felt the hands of a man in love
The hands that can make me whole once more
As I stood watching the lightening soar across the sky and the thunder gently hum
I wondered “Is this life real? Is this God real? Is love real? Is any of it real?”
I shivered and stood waiting for the rain’s response
None came; the only response was the silent tread of water heading toward a gutter
Funny, just like my life, always fighting against gravity to stay clear of the gutter
Shivering I stepped back inside and heard a small clink of a piece of broken glass
I held it, amazed, wondering if my life would end this way
In the hands of a tiny piece of melted sand
I looked at its tiny iceberg shape
I turned it and it suddenly transformed into a misshaped heart
A heart, like mine, so clear, so ready, so fragile
I tossed the tiny love into the air as lightening made its last hoorah
Hearing only the distinctive clink as it hit the sidewalk
The rain responded joyously as it picked up its pace
This was her response
Nothing may be real but the rain
In the end, sometimes, it’s all we can depend on to wash away our old selves
To stand, like an escape from Shawshank; free
This was my answer
That my tiny glass love lying patiently on the side of the road will someday be picked up and thrown wildly into the wind hoping that it shall find the fingers of a lovestruck current
This time instead of a slab of concrete, I shall be there to catch it as lightening strikes my heart
I looked up at the tiny roof guarding my head from the cold drops of reality
It was then that I decided it was time to take the roof off of my life, leaving me unguarded
I closed the door, shivering with a renewed sense of myself
I curled under the blanket asking again the same questions that haunted me,
“Is this life real? Is this God real? Is love real? Is any of it real?”
The rain answered,
“Yes”.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
Apathy, oh dear apathy
How I suffered slowly
Heart so lonely
Even safe in their arms
Your coldest embrace
Hides my tear-stained face
Save me from the shell
From the nothing I have become
Dear apathy, dear apathy
My heart rings lowly
An echoless bell,
A great empty shell,
Ever trapped in the greatest of hells
Why you come to me I do not know
For you cover my soul and call it home
Shelter me from the rain in my head
Even when I wake from my shivering bed
There is no more dread
There is no more pain
Not sorrow nor aching
Only nothing again
Nothing but numb
What have I become?
What have I...become?
Dear apathy
Even when I should be happily
Joyously so
You refuse to go
Oh the great things that you know…
Dear apathy, dearest apathy
My heart, it suffered slowly
Until you came to me
Took me into your embrace
You shelter my tear-stained face
From all of this disgrace
That has become me…
Whatever am I to be,
With or without you
My dearest apathy?
My dearest apathy
I suffered so slowly
Heartstrings, tear and fray
For indescribable reasons I stay
Even whilst they play
Ever so lowly
There is no echo, no ring or sound
There is no song, no feeling at all
There is no care, not a bit in the world
For I have given all I have to give
In this great life that I live
I give and I give…
Until I can no more
Until I can no more
My heart opens the door…
It opens the door
Welcoming you into my coldest embrace
Dear apathy, you came for me
When I needed you most
I was but your host,
A wailing ghost
Until you came to me…
Now my greatest emotions
The vastest of oceans
They rest, now
They leave me be…
Since you have come to me
They leave me be…
Dear apathy, dear apathy…
These times you come to me
Shelter me, hold me to be
Lulled into your coldest of arms
Silence the alarms
Out with the candle
Out with me…
And welcome, dearest apathy
- Jay M
October 11th, 2021
Oct 11, 2021
Oct 11, 2021 at 12:12 PM UTC
Number 7 in the ORLOK series and one of the best
O how I relish the taste of blood
****** out from the devastated jugular
But there is more, much more
When the victim is a nubile ****
From a Transylvanian village
Where ****** morality
Is quite ******* thin on the ground;
And that is how I met my fate.
'Twas on an October eve
When I met plump Esmeralda
And (having fed my fill from her neck
as she slept in her hut
under filthy rags stinking of stale *****
I sank my fangs into her naked belly
Ripping into her bloated guts
With my accustomed gusto;
My tongue slurping its way
Over her twitching ****
And finally I descended joyously
To her odorous spunk-encrusted *****
For the last rites,
Before the final curtain
To her worthless life of peasantry.
But then, as my excitement mounted,
And just as I was on the verge
Of pumping out my vampiric *******
I felt an agonising, mind-blasting pain
As a major stroke swept through me,
Wrecking my synapses big time,
Turning my brain into guacamole.
And now I am a crippled ******
Just a spasticated old vampire
In my second-hand rusting wheelchair,
Courtesy of Romanian Social Services,
Drooling helplessly
Into my swollen pissy crotch,
Waiting for another enema,
My sole remaining pleasure
And a stimulus to my jaded prostate.
But, hurrah! hurrah! new hope arrives:
A miracle occurs as I read of
The new wonder pill from SuperDrug
Available only in private practise
And guaranteed to rejuvenate the jaded
Or your money back, no worries.
Orlok will fly again to pursue
The pleasures of the flesh
And especially the botty-zone.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
Tingly under the daisies;
Glassy-eyed, glazed, greasy;
Shaking, shivering, shuddering,
Wishing, wandering, whimpering,
Westernizing—
Romanizing—
Constitutionalizing—
Institutionalizing—
Perpetually searching
And dying
And living,
Watching Death survive
And scythe the frolickers,
The prancers,
The rompers,
The merrymakers.
A rose clamped between his
Grinning teeth glistens brightly,
And he dances so joyously.
“Yes!” say the naysayers,
Confused are the soothsayers,
Lost are the cartographers.
Oh, Utopia!
The monks are extravagant;
The meditations are a farce!
The preachers are beggars
And swindlers and chargers,
And Machiavelli fulfills his wishes!
Babies are stillborn, stabbed, and
Ritualistically sacrificed,
And their blood is spilled, drunk,
Slathered over the ***** man.
The evangelists scream and lie:
“You are all predestined to die!”
Oh, hail Utopia!
Wedded are the girls to the girls;
Wedded are the boys to the boys;
Wedded is Death to Death,
Life to Life,
And Life to Death.
Wedded are the living to the existent.
And the milking babes are slaughtered
Ceremoniously,
Surreptitiously,
Ostentatiously.
Oh, hail great Utopia!
We are all dead and unintelligent:
Laugh, laugh, Einstein, at your
Stupidity.
Laugh, laugh, Temple Grandin at
Your retardation.
Laugh, laugh, laugh!
Look at the sluggard, thou ant;
Look at the boy, sobbing wolf;
Aesop was drunk,
Aristotle was delusional,
Michelangelo was blind,
Beethoven could hear,
Poe was sane.
And I can't read.
They ramble,
I watch.
They sleep,
I watch.
They dream,
I watch.
They sleep-talk,
I watch.
They scream,
I watch.
They choke,
I watch.
They suffocate,
I watch.
Stone-faced, I stare;
Raspingly, I breathe;
Uncontrollably, I twitch;
Inwardly, I rage.
I hope you die, I hope you die.
I hope you bleed, I hope you die.
I want you begging and crying,
I want you blubbering at my feet,
I want you gnashing at my ankles,
I want you writhing in pain,
I want your arm twisted off,
Cracking with the snapping sinews, I want your beating heart in my hands, I want your genitals uprooted and stuffed in your throat, I want your stomach so I can eat the still-digesting food, I want your shrunken head and I want to force my thumbs into your unblinking eyes and I want to tear your face in two and I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
_Marge_ retrogrades lazily towards the hills;
Her name, printed the width of her cab-over dinette
In crinkled cobalt cursive,
Totters eccentrically as her handbrake fails.
SNAP-AP
Oblivious to errant camper vans (and centripetal forces in general),
Barney speeds maniacally along a deserted city street;
Golden coated and joyously poochie,
His tongue flabbers as fast as his bicycle courier dad can pedal.
SNAP-AP-AP
Mr Blue buys buckets at Bunnings
To match his cerulean suit and shinier-than-shiney satin shirt;
Periwinkle rhinestone shoes carry him unabashedly passed the second glances and sideways looks;
There goes the best dressed DIY-er in town…don’t ya know.
SNAP-AP-AP-AP
Apr 5, 2022
Apr 5, 2022 at 7:01 PM UTC
Jackrabbits jetting
joyously through Juneberries.
Jovial jumpers.
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 1:14 PM UTC
VI. TO APHRODITE (21 lines)
(ll. 1-18) I will sing of stately Aphrodite, gold-crowned and
beautiful, whose dominion is the walled cities of all sea-set
Cyprus. There the moist breath of the western wind wafted her
over the waves of the loud-moaning sea in soft foam, and there
the gold-filleted Hours welcomed her joyously. They clothed her
with heavenly garments: on her head they put a fine, well-wrought
crown of gold, and in her pierced ears they hung ornaments of
orichalc and precious gold, and adorned her with golden necklaces
over her soft neck and snow-white ******* jewels which the gold-
filleted Hours wear themselves whenever they go to their father's
house to join the lovely dances of the gods. And when they had
fully decked her, they brought her to the gods, who welcomed her
when they saw her, giving her their hands. Each one of them
prayed that he might lead her home to be his wedded wife, so
greatly were they amazed at the beauty of violet-crowned
Cytherea.
(ll. 19-21) Hail, sweetly-winning, coy-eyed goddess! Grant that
I may gain the victory in this contest, and order you my song.
And now I will remember you and another song also.
2.3k
It was a night of music softly playing, listlessly upon the bed I was laying,
Lying awake with toss and turns without subtle hints of a snore…
And whilst this time my eyes did wander, avoiding the lids they should be under,
Suddenly as I was under, under the spell of consciousness I could not ignore…
“No, this cannot be,” I whispered, “this insomnia I cannot ignore;
Awake I lied, sleeping never more.
The clock soon read the 30th minute of two, and it was now that I knew
As I stares bleakly to the scuffled patterns of my feet on the carpet floor,
I tried to rise up from bed in hopes to gain; fatigue made that attempt in vain.
My eyes wrought forth tears from burning pain, the nightly air made them sore…
The darkness of the night air now silent but dry has left them burning sore,
Craving the sleep that comes never more.
My blanket held the rustling of my body so violently tussling
In anger—such anger that the blanket had suddenly tore;
And so now I laid there, with fluff of stuffing my blanket was ‘bleeding’,
“I fear that this must be the sleep I’ll crave, yet ignore,
For it seems odd this craving my body would so deviously ignore."
Still awake I lied, craving sleep ever more.
Restless I turned to my side, when then my eyes grew joyously wide,
“I had forgotten,” said I. “Cure for restless sleep, this bottle does implore";
Unfortunately, I took some previously- the limit to such an aid is a pity,
And the clock had struck three, three hours I am forced to ignore,
"Oh, the sleep that I needed…” I mourned softly on the time I had to ignore.
“I want sleep and nothing more!”
All the time I laid staring, the darkness faded, the sun now glaring;
Forcing a retreat of the darkness covering the scuffled patterns on the carpet floor.
A dawn’s glow shined with brilliance, against my eyes so red and resilient,
The sleep, once again a night of rest I craved for my body, so weary and sore,
For the sake of my eyesight now the sun’s gleam had made ever so sore
“Sigh, ‘tis another fortnight I sleep never more.”
© 2011
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
True Love is bliss, it's not just a kiss
It's sad this truth in life we miss
We sing and we dance
And we enjoy the romance
But the bliss and the peace of True Love we miss
What is Love, seems a strange question to ask
Falling in Love is a very easy task
When somebody makes your heart dance
And you feel the romance
Life becomes beautiful and you live in that trance
Haven't you seen kids loving their mom and dad?
Friendship too is Love, it's not just a fad
When there is Love, there is bliss
Love is not just a passionate kiss
There are many different types of Love in fact
It's sad that people think *** is Love
Even without *** you can be hand in glove
With True Love, two become one
Yes, True Love is a lot of fun
It's happiness that takes you far above
When we speak of True Love, what exactly is meant?
In ignorance of True Love, our life is spent
True Love is really magic
That we miss it, is tragic
True Love is a gift that is God sent
Love is Love, but True Love is bliss
It is not just *** it is not just a kiss
True Love is something great
But it is not everybody's fate
It is sad though we live, this treasure we miss
True Love is not just of body and mind
True Love is not something which the heart can find
What is our Goal?
Find True Love in the Soul
Then in True Love you will find two Souls will bind
With True Love you find that two become one
There are no disagreements and life becomes fun
When 'you' and 'me' become 'us'
Then there is no more fuss
And the treasure of True Love in life is won
The Greeks called Eros, the Love of passion
But Agape was True Love that was their mission
True Love was not just physical
And neither intellectual or emotional
True Love was to make Godly Love the obsession
If Love is so beautiful then why do we cry?
Why do lovers fight and then question why?
Because there is Love
But there is no True Love
The beauty of Love very soon does die
What makes you think that Love is a kiss?
What makes you believe that romance is bliss?
When you give away your heart
And you see it's torn apart
Then you realize that you made a miss
When you realize True Love in the Soul
There is peace in the Heart, and joy is whole
And you see beyond the skin
And you Love the one within
Then you have found True Love, your very life goal
In True Love, you are compassionate and kind, you give
True Love is such that you always forgive
True Love makes one free
And you live joyously
It is with True Love that one can truly live
True Love is a Divine Rainbow with Colours Seven
Colours that burst from White and make you feel you are in Heaven It is the Love of Body and Mind
The Love of Heart and Soul
True Love is Divine, it takes you to Cloud Eleven
It's time to stop and True Love to find
To go beyond body and to go beyond mind
True Love is in the Soul
What is the ultimate goal?
To discover True Love and put everything else behind
True Love is Spiritual, True Love is Divine
True Love is more ******** than *** and wine
True Love transcends the heart
And goes deep within the Soul
True Love is loving God and making life whole
When you discover True Love, you smile all the while
For you see the Divine, everywhere, all the time
You see beyond body, you see beyond mind
When True Love in every Soul you find
True Love makes life blissful, True Love we must find
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 8:16 AM UTC
Jolly antlers
Curling happily like fingers do
Adornment of a stranger's imagination
Funny toothless braying
A beautiful accompaniment to the white rocks
"Ting ting"
The bell strung from your neck joyously speaks your odd truth
Tender plodding of new hooves,
The scabs of your retelling leave their own interpretation of your metamorphosis
You may be reconfigured
But you are complete
My little reindeer
Jul 8, 2021
Jul 8, 2021 at 12:26 AM UTC
Symphony of heavens blasted joyously,
Even the angels triumphantly sang "Seerie"
Endless dew drops of hypnotizing colors
Ribbons and laces scattered at earthly doors
Intricate emotions made way to beauty so true
Eden at its best when dear God created you.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 3:27 AM UTC
There was a story hanging there
from the edge of my bed
but its teller I didn't want to know
so the story went unsaid
I thought I could ignor you hanging there
leave you to gently be
but after days you're still there
I'll admit you terrorise me
You crawl in through my eyelids
to my otherwise peaceful dreams
you mock me as your silence
seems to amplify my screams
and they keep on getting louder
because I keep them locked inside
and so they rage right through me
until everything I once was has died
They ***** my dignity
disemboweled my calm
tortured vociferously
my very entity
after knawing through the logical side of my brain
so that the only part remaining
is the part that is insane
Now as I swing from side to side
from the rope you've spun for me
I see you joyously scurry by
maybe we're both now finally free
And from my perch in heaven
If I ever look back down
I look at you and reflect that
I'd have done it differently second time round
I'd definetly heard you're story
I'd have given it a chance
maybe we could have been great friends
and we could sing and laugh and dance
There's plenty of your kind in heaven
and they're all great dancers too
I regret I didn't know you before
but now I look forward to meeting you
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 6:54 AM UTC
The adrenaline is pumping
through my veins
at critical levels.
I thought my heart had wings;
it soared so high.
It skipped one beat,
two beats,
three.
It did a jig
and danced right out of my chest.
You caught it.
I looked down at my heart.
It was beating happily
in your hands.
I suddenly realized
that I was holding your heart
and it was joyously keeping time
to the beat of my heart.
I feared that I would drop it
or squeeze it
or harm it
in any way
and I wondered
is this what love really is?
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
each moment is golden
not to be squandered on worry
that is to say
action from a good heart
is all
with a good heart
as a foundation
then spontaneous action
will be kind to people
be for a greater good
or just express love
without fear, suspicion or rivalry
then moments will count
and a person can be joyously light
living in gratitude
of each golden moment
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 1:48 AM UTC
Piacular restitution suffering joyously
The fallen order of Lilith;
Sunsets secrets scribed defying
Laws pneumatic
A shamanistic seance peacefully
Rousing the foundation of our belief,
Dawns dreaming the fantasy of a seer-
Palpitating asystolic within my chest
The severed hand of God; twilights truth
A stone tablet descrying
My impetuous insubordination
Breathing light upon a black lily
My souls flayed flesh tear stained white
Descending into Hades
Unfathomable regions of despair
As I watch them kneel beside my bed
As if I am prey for those who pray for me
Walking through Persephones garden.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:50 AM UTC