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"maelstroms" poems
. Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements, The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud, Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold, Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.' Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits, His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens, Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages, So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out, Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.' Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,                            Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave, Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now, King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags, Yet black and above you and night shades, whine, Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects, The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings, How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes, To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,' Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on, 'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond, The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away, Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream, Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
King Lear in Conversation with the Sky
Marooned  land-locked     on  island  earth Born with an orphan’s     unknowable ache Born with an empath heart – always feeling too much – mystic receptors wide awake     in a highly sensitive soul It’s as if I've walked along       forever alone,     one step at a time,     lost in a restless nebula from the earth to the moon Consciously dreaming       to steal away,  bearing the weight of the sky,  upwards over the mountain, away from these chains          that bind     The maelstroms echo behind silenced, probing eyes with an unsated thirst       to be wanted     dead or otherwise: Never understanding     the reasons why, spinning around in my head; where "once upon a time"         was hidden,         buried alive               A lifetime spent trying     to unlearn the things     I wish I’d never     sought to know,     clinging to the love I've touched in my life   evermore enwombed        in my heart     Passing milestones: walking another barefoot mile passing so many locked doors     without keyholes – way outside the lines –     Choking on all     the latent words       lay fallow,        left unsaid  Always looking for something dreamt but seldom manifest  Growing so tired and weary with no one standing by my side;   no one to lay down beside me     to take a rest for awhile Just another chapter in a timeless same old story;   another dark star       burned – out       – vanished – into the utter obscurity of a sky so close and yet        so far away... Jesse Stillwater ... August 22, 2018
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
Marooned
Marooned  land-locked     on  island  earth Born with an orphan’s     unknowable ache Born with an empath heart – always feeling too much – mystic receptors wide awake     in a highly sensitive soul It’s as if I've walked along       forever alone,     one step at a time,     lost in a restless nebula from the earth to the moon Consciously dreaming       to steal away,  bearing the weight of the sky,  upwards over the mountain, away from these chains          that bind     The maelstroms echo behind silenced, probing eyes with an unsated thirst       to be wanted     dead or otherwise: Never understanding     the reasons why, spinning around in my head; where "once upon a time"         was hidden,         buried alive               A lifetime spent trying     to unlearn the things     I wish I’d never     sought to know,     clinging to the love I've touched in my life   evermore enwombed        in my heart     Passing milestones: walking another barefoot mile passing so many locked doors     without keyholes – way outside the lines –     Choking on all     the latent words       lay fallow,        left unsaid  Always looking for something dreamt but seldom manifest  Growing so tired and weary with no one standing by my side;   no one to lay down beside me     to take a rest for awhile Just another chapter in a timeless same old story;   another dark star       burned – out       – vanished – into the utter obscurity of a sky so close and yet        so far away... Jesse Stillwater ... August 22, 2018
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63
sonic bridge, seismic convulsions a desert for us and them, you can do many things with a blank canvas --maelstroms, blaze dispersions a line allows progress, a circle does not, infiltrates the surface, flashes into steam our red cathedral, our furnace lake, the promised land in spiritual drought this catatonic heaven, a thirst for something more
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Aug 16, 2023
Aug 16, 2023 at 1:50 PM UTC
Zabriskie Point
I love the brilliant frenzied         stillness Earth rotating, an opaque of         beaded matters The buckling transfixiated            openings of bleeding      ground. Blue green brown blood     teeming with movement disconnecting features     rapt in water       and other lives   repeating, inserting     maelstroms of thought.
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Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
brilliant frenzied stillness
*in the bleakest twilight, stars, a rural sea hues possessing confusions, mayhem; like susurrous in the rivers the fugitives seek. devouring words betwixt papers of prayers the quiet evensong plays, the salted saliva swallowed into Rome gardens of sea green and stars a morose spirit bellow. into the midst of the labyrinthine coral sea they'll sail through the soughing seawind conflating into ocean salts, erupt in mesmeric pulse soon the April gales will shrink to a bated breath, credence will turn into a sempiternal menace. fiery suspires blown to my knees, auburn tress covered a crescent beam serenade a zero, I tilt to the drones in the haze a scintilla of lukewarm left to trace; to the sea her body lured, losing panaceas and remedies. into maelstroms she goes, inhaling salt water, a spirit wet with ruth; her grey bones into ash, into watery cemeteries she goes.*
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Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC
seawalk at dusk
Here in receding darkness, the sky meets the earth; In waning hours, here the music of the waves consoles the mourning sands; here I go pursuing the citadel of mists, rising lotus-like from clouds hanging on rugged mountains in the distance. Maelstroms in the desert carry vortices of sand and moist fragments of mirages of oases; The fury of the sea brooks no contenders: ***** make home the sands levelled flat of my feats; Again the uproar of mist-filled thirst. Invisible companion, tonight, in moonlit silence, will you come walking waters, like those ages many, of Galilee ago? A storm is brewing. A labyrinth of seasons in the Catherine-wheel of life, growing and swirling out of the haze;
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Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 7:50 PM UTC
Maelstroms (redacted)
. Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements, The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud, Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold, Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.' Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits, His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens, Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages, So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out, Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.' Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,                                     Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave, Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now, King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags, Yet black and above you and night shades, whine, Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects, The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings, How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes, To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,' Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on, 'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond, The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away, Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream, Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
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Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
King Lear in Conversation with the Sky
As snow does to a fire, lull them asleep among the foliage; between the oleander beautiful as snow; like dragonflies threading! he sings and the woods sing! In the wine of daylight the willows shiver: - its coolness on my feet, the star has wept rose-colour. The wolves howl back with great conquering black eyes. - from violet forests: where the stars are sleeping. The black gallows moan, on the calm black water embroidered with black moss and the horizon rushes and the murmuring waters came snowing; I no longer feel myself; I have seen maelstroms eternal, of the sea star-infused and the yellow-blue awakenings the scented twilight, of silver waves.
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Jan 13, 2011
Jan 13, 2011 at 1:56 PM UTC
The Black Gallows Moan
Once broken with innocence, Built again with care. If shattered on purpose, Pieces wouldn't be found. As for the ship in the bottle, She'll find another sea And another sky Or a maelstrom of deceit Or maybe create maelstroms of her own. For she knows no bottles anymore. Why the false sense of security? When she can have a crew of her own! Without worrying about the shattered glass And it's piercing dust That cuts through her. That's been cutting through her. All this while.
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Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 7:19 PM UTC
Ship In A Bottle
we represenT Forests and StormS in the way thaT one can burn the otheR and one can't movE but one has to movE we represenT Thickets and MaelstromS in the way thaT A Maelstrom can be peacefuL and A Thicket can be wonderfuL we represenT Infernos and Snow StormS in the way thaT A Snow Storm can be overwhelminG and An Inferno can be uncontrolablE we represenT Storms and ForestS Maelstroms and ThicketS Snow Storms and InfernoS We represenT the Worst and Best partS of terrible thingS your turn, ThickeT
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Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 9:25 AM UTC
Forests and Storms
by that time every body ventured had been a surrogate. a gateless gate left completely unopened wide so too was i. pretending pretending. they emerged out of nothingness like heart valves. metaphysics could not hold them shut or otherwise. the step-ins force me down and out like the street hands ignored. i am just a shadow in the dream of a ghost of these flows of light that are lost on you like so many endless turning maelstroms at a molecular level, i too not noticing through all the commotion i am in the orbit of a black sun.
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Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 2:00 PM UTC
in the absence of apricity
Today I thought about burning bibles and how my house is surrounded by cobwebs and how do I explain that to people. It burns my veins when I think of the god that lets children die and creates maelstroms inside people so they’re left begging for change in the streets and all those prayers are like pinpricks on my forefinger because if I was created in his image, then why do I curl my fists when I look in the mirror It’s not easy being cut-cloth and vacancy motels in foreign cities I will never return to because I know their owner I know the freckles in your back like constellations in my head I've heard your voice when I was on the bathroom floor sinking, sinking There’s no anchor in this ship and the tossed waves are like your tousled hair and maybe the sternum in your chest is the Bermuda triangle but I could have sworn I held your hand, I know this for a fact because my pulse danced with yours those days but now it’s these days and I can’t get a grip and I bend my knees but the bruises are stubborn I keep opening doors but I don’t know what I’m looking for I want to call, for help, to my mother, to my father whose clothes cling to him like death and I want you to know that this isn't about you When I was a little girl, I would go to church and hope that someday my knuckles would get kissed and not murdered I wanted everything my parents didn't get I used to think it was because god was too busy with other people's families and that's why their lawns were always greener than ours   I wanted for you to exist so badly, I forgot that I did too.
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May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
6 poems ago
Today I thought about burning bibles and how my house is surrounded by cobwebs and how do I explain that to people. It burns my veins when I think of the god that lets children die and creates maelstroms inside people so they’re left begging for change in the streets and all those prayers are like pinpricks on my forefinger because if I was created in his image, then why do I curl my fists when I look in the mirror It’s not easy being cut-cloth and vacancy motels in foreign cities I will never return to because I know their owner I know the freckles in your back like constellations in my head I've heard your voice when I was on the bathroom floor sinking, sinking There’s no anchor in this ship and the tossed waves are like your tousled hair and maybe the sternum in your chest is the Bermuda triangle but I could have sworn I held your hand, I know this for a fact because my pulse danced with yours those days but now it’s these days and I can’t get a grip and I bend my knees but the bruises are stubborn I keep opening doors but I don’t know what I’m looking for I want to call, for help, to my mother, to my father whose clothes cling to him like death and I want you to know that this isn't about you When I was a little girl, I would go to church and hope that someday my knuckles would get kissed and not murdered I wanted everything my parents didn't get I used to think it was because god was too busy with other people's families and that's why their lawns were always greener than ours   I wanted for you to exist so badly, I forgot that I did too.
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17
You’re swimming, okay, And the Bible suddenly opens up. Not many people are faced with this, Except you: you’re an exception. How do you take it? Barely, would the sublime horror of communion pass on your lips Once the ocean take its Leviathan form, and it opens its mouth to speak. Its oratory becomes very clear in the maelstroms of countless gallons Rushing blue cannibalizes itself before you; you have no time to think of death When the salt’s burning your eyes and you’ve finally figured How useful a gyroscope can be. Too soon, three darknesses will emerge from the desolate homily Taught not to discriminate in thought or action: the backs of your eyes Straining against the buoyancy, the restfulness of not seeing a bottom, And the path Jonah’s bones took, the disbeliever. Mostly, you’ll want to congratulate yourself like a legend, You wonderful piece of **** when you come in crashing on the waves.
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
How to get eaten by a Whale
I'm writing a poem of alliteration, Promising perfunctory proliferation, Rendering ragged rambling randomness, Scribbling stupid spasmodic silliness. Finding words requires a Thesaurus, Collecting curses chirography causes, Needs necessitate natural nuances, Instead incredible imaginary influences. This task is beginning to wreck my head, Beating boredom before bed, Wretched wistfully wandering words, Agreeable arrangements absolutely absurd. Keeping it logical is becoming a bind, Maelstroms merging, mashing my mind, Deranged, despairing, definitely diminished, Fortunately, fudging finally finished. Cinco Espiritus Creation 26/09/17
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Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
Alliteration
together we sit and scan through pages searching for knowledge of savants and sages apart by wires and  spaces deemed cyber together in some places besotted by  desires for that which you seek and that which you share your hasty interests  may lead you to stare into the abyss of the nets'  unending the maelstroms vortex you'll soon be winding going ye here and going ye there hopeful your meanderings shall leave you fair for within some sites there's the inveigle snare ultimately constructed to leave you bare go wittingly into the all- electric  fray some sensitive toes you'll invariably  belay don't fret over words harmlessly mislaid to err is only human, short-circuits  allayed
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Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
A prosodic ode to WWW, an episodic paean
She takes a breath; A big one-- The kind that lifts her chest Reaches her stomach. She holds herself, Steady little birdy, 5, 6, 7, 8... Then unleashes All of her raw wild grace; As they sit in awe Of the most beautiful animal She brings before them. She embodies the maelstroms, The typhoons, the hurricanes, That have destroyed so many, As she devastates her audience In subliminal bliss. She is purely a creature of light; A force of nature, so absolute, So fragile; She could break herself, Have the world shatter In but a flex... The melody Of her expression will run out soon. As the last few bars thunder down, She recedes; Her energy smashed And scattered With those who saw her When she was in her space, Where they could not touch her Or her spirit. They were helpless in the face Of her fire-- So hot, so bright, It blazed in the brilliance Of a thousand suns, Before the last flame of the candle Lost it's light... Not with a bang, but a whimper A coldness takes hold, She realizes she has to come back To their world. She will miss Her own little dimension Where she is Queen; Her space where she can fly, Where she can move mountains, And reign over thunderstorms... The curtains start to draw As she prepares to leave the stage, Taking hold of the memories made Only to be forgotten and remembered; Thinking of her time in the sun, She takes a last breath And bows out. Her grace, now a dim memory Forgotten, only to be remembered In these eternal phrases, When you read them.
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Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 3:18 PM UTC
Not with a bang, but a whimper
She takes a breath; A big one-- The kind that lifts her chest Reaches her stomach. She holds herself, Steady little birdy, 5, 6, 7, 8... Then unleashes All of her raw wild grace; As they sit in awe Of the most beautiful animal She brings before them. She embodies the maelstroms, The typhoons, the hurricanes, That have destroyed so many, As she devastates her audience In subliminal bliss. She is purely a creature of light; A force of nature, so absolute, So fragile; She could break herself, Have the world shatter In but a flex... The melody Of her expression will run out soon. As the last few bars thunder down, She recedes; Her energy smashed And scattered With those who saw her When she was in her space, Where they could not touch her Or her spirit. They were helpless in the face Of her fire-- So hot, so bright, It blazed in the brilliance Of a thousand suns, Before the last flame of the candle Lost it's light... Not with a bang, but a whimper A coldness takes hold, She realizes she has to come back To their world. She will miss Her own little dimension Where she is Queen; Her space where she can fly, Where she can move mountains, And reign over thunderstorms... The curtains start to draw As she prepares to leave the stage, Taking hold of the memories made Only to be forgotten and remembered; Thinking of her time in the sun, She takes a last breath And bows out. Her grace, now a dim memory Forgotten, only to be remembered In these eternal phrases, When you read them.
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61
. Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements, The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud, Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold, Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.' Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits, His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens, Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages, So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out, Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.' Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,                             Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave, Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now, King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags, Yet black and above you and night shades, whine, Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects, The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings, How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes, To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,' Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on, 'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond, The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away, Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream, Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.' .
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Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
King Lear in Conversation with the Sky
. Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements, The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud, Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold, Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.' Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits, His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens, Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages, So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out, Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.' Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,                                     Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave, Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now, King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags, Yet black and above you and night shades, whine, Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects, The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings, How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes, To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,' Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on, 'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond, The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away, Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream, Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
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Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
King Lear in Conversation with the Sky
There’s nothing greater than the miracle of life, No matter how fleeting it may be. Energy and matter Winking Into Existence. Chemical maelstroms and nuclear reactions, Galaxy formations Leading to countless worlds. The formula for life is all around us, Awaiting the inevitable hand of evolution. See how we’re surrounded by sentient beings, From tiny insects to massive whales. Celebrate the very fact That we can look in awe And meditate Upon the wonders of the world. We take it all for granted, Locked in our TV and mobile phones, Our petty businesses and routines. We seldom think that thinking is amazing, As the universe expands: A miracle indeed. Paul Butters
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Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 5:02 AM UTC
Miracle
. And the waves crash down on a distant shore, as worlds collide in a dramatic final encore, a panic birthing universe, the original sacred chao, bellicose suns carve furrows like a plough, seed stars ********** from the maelstroms core, illuminating that which was not there before. The universe is a cell inhabiting a bigger store, a microcosmic component born and newly restored, internal explosions of chemistry creating divisions, warping space about ideas, moulding time's schisms, imagining life as the accident of a misplaced spore, as the waves crash down on a distant shore. © Pagan Paul (24/02/18)
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Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 6:38 AM UTC
Mindphase
Light light beings Sara L Russell, 10/10/16 So if we are light beings, then is the aura a fountain of white   diamond fire reflecting the sun, dancing in the air in a million drops of exploding starlight from the seventh universe.   If we are light beings, we are beholden to shun the darkness. Always shun the darkness, for it is full of the shadows of djinn;   those shadow people know your comings and goings, behold, they are legion, they hunt the starlight children fly like a moth to the light; since it holds only the luminescence of love. We are light, we are strong, we are wingbeats of angels,   we are the blameless abiders of law from our leaders, like a million dancing raindrops, we can weather the maelstroms,   holding the light as a feather; since it is fragile and needs our belief. And if we are light beings, being lighter than air or arias,   then is the aura like haloes of sunbeams reflected in sea; only then we are free to ascend in the spirit of freedom, being the love light and keepers of tranquility.
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Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
Holding the Light
. Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements, The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud, Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold, Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.' Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits, His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens, Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages, So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out, Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.' Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning, Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave, Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now, King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags, Yet black and above you and night shades, whine, Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects, The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings, How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes, To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,' Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on, 'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond, The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away, Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream, Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'*
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May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
King Lear in Conversation with the Sky
Lucid dream When I was young they had no faces Eggs Smooth as nog Strain to convince Me or you To run from hurricane fire inside The walls of that house Carry on austere reflection We are crystallic All their irises Black maelstroms Keep face Of course I have known what you are doing Avoided that gaze There are more vital veins I am satisfied But must I wake you to shake you? Or is it I who Becomes the ascetic?
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Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 2:16 AM UTC
The Chaste Tree
I have seen Maelstroms Eternal Written by Adam M. Snow I write with flowers of ink, thy love poured out on page, in a slumbering alder away in endless flight; swaying with the stars, so white 'gainst the black night sky, facing the horizons, on the calm black waters called -ink. -I write for thee that thy heart be free. I have seen maelstroms eternal, mount in my soul but endless; -An abyss without thee, I dare thee not. By starlight the rushes lean over thee wide: -The ink on the page is erased, -The text is long forgotten.
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Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 3:04 AM UTC
I have seen Maelstroms Eternal
Poem about you                                                                                             Poem about me Poem about her                                                                                             Poem about him Poem about death                                                                                             Poem about life Poem about relationships                                                                          Poem about broken hearts I think I see a pattern                                                                          But I'm sure you see it too
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Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
Maelstroms and thickets