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It was golden and splendid,                                                      
That City of light;                                                            
A vision suspended                                                              
In deeps of the night;                                                        
A region of wonder and glory, whose temples were marble and white.              
                                                                              
I remember the season                                                            
It dawn'd on my gaze;                                                          
The mad time of unreason,                                                        
The brain-numbing days                                                        
When Winter, white-sheeted and ghastly, stalks onward to torture and craze.      
                                                                              
More lovely than Zion                                                            
It shone in the sky                                                            
When the beams of Orion                                                          
Beclouded my eye,                                                              
Bringing sleep that was filled with dim mem'ries of moments obscure and gone by.
                                                                              
Its mansions were stately,                                                      
With carvings made fair,                                                      
Each rising sedately                                                            
On terraces rare,                                                              
And the gardens were fragrant and bright with strange miracles blossoming there.
                                                                              
The avenues lur'd me                                                            
With vistas sublime;                                                          
Tall arches assur'd me                                                          
That once on a time                                                            
I had wander'd in rapture beneath them, and bask'd in the Halcyon clime.        
                                                                              
On the plazas were standing                                                      
A sculptur'd array;                                                            
Long bearded, commanding,                                                        
rave men in their day—                                                        
But one stood dismantled and broken, its bearded face battered away.            
                                                                              
In that city effulgent                                                          
No mortal I saw,                                                              
But my fancy, indulgent                                                          
To memory's law,                                                              
Linger'd long on the forms in the plazas, and eyed their stone features with    
awe.                                                                            
                                                                              
I fann'd the faint ember                                                        
That glow'd in my mind,                                                        
And strove to remember                                                          
The aeons behind;                                                 &
Christina Aug 2014
han er forfatter og rapper og skuespiller og han vil have mig på besøg til pizza og rødvin. det skulle have været i dag, men vi sov begge lur til aften, så det blev for sent, udsat til lørdag. måske har jeg samlet mod til den tid. men jeg ved ikke hvordan man gør, jeg har ikke lært det. altså hvordan spiser man mad uden at spilde ned af sig selv? hvordan drikker man vin uden at blive for stiv? hvordan er man sammen med en mand uden at kneppe ham?
latterligt,
        let
                        leende, lur mig
  legende
larm

lukkede øjne
      lodret, levende

                                     løgner!, lup

larve, lukket

     luft, luk nu
        
                                 lolland? lutlandia

  lovgivning,
lærkesang

                levning; lev
#l
Laura Duran Jan 2019
Two poems written by my great niece Layla for my sister (her grandma, whom she calls Yaya)  and me, whom she calls Lur.  
She wanted to use my real name and she sounded it out.  Lura is what she came up with.  I love her so much and when I read her poems my heart melted.  I told her I would share them and she got
so excited.  She wants her feed back so have at it.  fyi, she's 9 years
old going on 20!


For her Yaya....

Yourself

Awesome

You're the best

Awesome grandmother

and mine....

Loving

Unique

Radiant

Amazing story teller
I tell her stories of adventure and magic!  Epic tales where she is the hero and uses her many talents to save many imaginary worlds!
Maddie Paige Jun 2017
Before my eyes I see girl in blue
As tears to recognize
Anger, frustration in glue
Now we jeopardize
She may have issues
It doesn't mean that she is insane
There were a hundred times I miss yous
Who´s to blame
Children despises her
She went to a hospital for having to cause herself to die
Knowing that it will never be the same ner
They now want her to talk or priy
Can't tell if it is the answer
She told me that she killed someone
Most of the people in the prisons have mental issues it is somewhat cancerous
Blinding fears  of a ton
Now she runs with anger and sadness
The police is trying to get her
She can't hide in fondness
Now we lur
Telling by her eyes she was abused
I couldn't tell by the news
Knowing that she was the accused
The mischief brews
We are all human
I know she was in love with her
The parents refused in truman
When she was with her the reality was blooming furs
Love is a powerful nature
She knows it's not nomenclature
Believing in no matter what they will still love you
I noticed that she hung out with boys  when she was two
The winds that blew had whispered a secret in her ear
She knew that marriage to a woman is what she wanted
Fear
She cries that the wind was harsher than said
When the girl was in her room
I see that it will be too late
She boomed
Maybe it was fate
She tells her I'll be there soon
As she waits for me to glee
Talking to others  don´t see
Now the story is in toon
Many people argue about same *** marriage
She tells me that she was the one
I fidget on my chair see a carriage
What tone
Mirror image that reflects it twisted in red
She sees the pain that I feel
The plans are in thread
I feel a shock from an eel
Why so homophobic
I mean love is love
people bullying is critic
She sends her letters marked with a dove
In the day you were killed
Now that days have changed we erase the bad ones
She was willed
Now she is talking up on her phone
Her parents still beat her in rage
Somehow the girl is in my frame.
She was in a cage
She was not the one to blame
We are all human
The kind of reason that was changed
She tells me about the crewmen
Now her life is rearranged
No need to make it worse
Blood won't **** her first
Bang, Boom,Bro I see a hearse
She is blessed with a curse
She is her flower
The passion in counting
Meowing
It wasn't funny sounding

— The End —