"magnificently" poems
You are beautiful
You are tremendously beautiful
You are marvelously beautiful
You are astonishingly beautiful
You are magnificently beautiful
You are breathtakingly beautiful
Inner and outer
You are beautiful
You are the definition of Beauty
Or shall I say, what is Beauty compared to you
What is Beauty compared to you ?
It feels shy and ashamed when I describe you
A weak meaning it has when I describe you
A meaningless meaning it has when I describe you
Never existed it wishes when I describe you
You are beautiful
For your beauty I searched
Every language ever lived
And every word ever existed
And the romantic era that occurred
Could not find a way to describe your beauty
Could not find a way to tell the world about your beauty
You are beautiful
Vocabulary will be invented
Words never existed
To the dictionaries will be added
In the dictionaries will live
In the lovers tongues will breath
To describe your beauty
The one and the only beauty
The living and the dead will forget about Cleopatra
Because your beauty is ultra
A new period will start, The Beauty Era
Your era
--Hisham Alshaikh
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 12:20 PM UTC
I hold you tight up against my body
I take you with me even to the party
I rub you back and forth
Up and down from south to north
I love the way you sing hard and soft
I just can't keep my hands off
I pull you close
From coast to coast
You are beautifully sound
I will never pass you around
Magnificently perfect
You have all of my respect
You are my best friend
Till the end
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 8:16 AM UTC
The diamonds shone like broken glass
Upon the midnight street
And all atop the walls were wet
Their white eyes glint & sleek
Then from afar a gnome appeared
An angel flashed on furry feet
The boulevard became a river
While waiting crowds began to quiver
I was in a motel watching
Whiskey in my hand
Her breath was soft, the wind was warm
Someone in a room was born
~~~
Accomplishments:
To make works in the face
of the void
To gain form, identity
To rise from the herd-crowd
Public favor
Public fervor
even the bitter Poet-Madman is
a clown
Treading the boards
~~~
Cold electric music
Damage me
Rend my mind
w/your dark slumber
Cold temple of steel
Cold minds alive
on the strangled shore
Veterans of foreign wars
We are the soldiers of
Rock & Roll Wars
~~~
Whether to be a
great cagey perfumed
beast
dying under the
sweet patronage
of Kings
& exist like luxuriant
flowers beneath the
emblems of their
Strange empire
or by mere insouciant
faith
slap them, call their cards
spit on fate & cast hell
to flames in usury
by dying, nobly
we could exist like
innocent trolls
propogate our revels
& give the finger to the
gods in our private
bedrooms
let’s rather, maybe,
perhaps,
get ******* out in
the open, & by
swelling, jubilantly
Magnificently, end them.
12k
*Stars very rarely
Hang-out alone,
A perfect night sky
Lets this be known.
They come together
Forming a spectacular
Constellation,
Shining magnificently bright
In a festive celebration.
Subdued,
Gently glowing undertones
Of a perfect moon,
Allow each individual star's quality
To be extraordinarily exhumed.
A perfect,
Starry evening
Sadly comes to an end,
As dusk turns to dawn;
With it,
The sun it sends.
By Lady R.F.(C)2017*
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
Thankyou to the lightworkers
Those who bring their radiant light
Thankyou for your guidance you never left my side
Thankyou for your wisdom your brilliant knowledge wise
Thankyou for your love it's made in God's Divine sight
Thankyou you are beautiful and you magnificently shine
Forever thankful in my heart soul and mind🌈💖✨
Apr 20, 2020
Apr 20, 2020 at 6:06 AM UTC
This cave is my sanctuary; cold, damp, filled with minerals and creatures.
I sit cross legged peering out through the crescent shaped doorway mama nature has created. I have never been more at peace than I am when I’m here.
The water crashes hard on the barnacle covered rocks beneath me. The mist from the waves whirls its way up to sooth my aching skin. The sea calls my name in the way that an angel calls you into the light.
At first it’s just a delicate whisper. The voice is so charming and playful that it begins to lure me in. As i begin to drift further, letting the voice carry my thoughts, the waves pound harder and the symphony the sea has written me rapidly grows in volume and intensity.
The tension becomes so strong that the sky starts to erupt. The clash of the clouds creates a prismatic light sequence leaving the sky looking magnificently iridescent. I sit unstirred, reveling in it's beauty.
The sea is now agonizingly screaming for me to succumb to its cool paradise.
For a while I just sit and enjoy the elegance of the symphony. Once the sky starts to lower its darkened veil, I know it is time to go.
I stand up with more certainty than I had ever felt before.
I slowly take three steps forward, embracing the feeling of the dirt in between my toes.
Two long strides, and then I leap. The thick foggy air caresses my body as it swiftly careens downward.
The symphony ends with a splash.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 3:30 PM UTC
You think you ugly.
And you're far from it.
You feel you're ugly.
And you not near to it.
Celebrities and entertainers feel this way.
And many have pay greatly to attract good looks their way.
You compare yourself to models.
Who is only superficial at best?
Cause probably without makeup.
They themselves are a hot mess.
We know many has aa insecurity complex.
Even us, who isn't famous?
For some reasons join their rank.
Instead of believing we are beautiful in many ways.
Instead we live behind a insecurity complex.
If beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.
Then you yourself must see yourself ,as magnificently gorgeous.
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 8:50 PM UTC
To each a body temple,
crated temple earth!
Two homes therefor each..
One head lay with one heart...
And offer one another the bed
of forgiveness each day,
magnificently,
Bold
Ebb beat,
Beat breathe,
Flow beat
Beat
r
e
a
t
h
e
:
Birthing as we see
Indeed, we be
Understand
Within
Bless
Love be
love See
Out
ward's
Utter
Ing's
Rx's
Truly
Free
'That
is all'
Lord's
o
r
d
e
s
s
'
s
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 9:40 AM UTC
Caucasian cadaver in the windless woods.
Carelessly hanging from a tree.
Colorless face looking down.
Carrion yet to be seen.
Creation of an evil man.
Displaying his departed art.
Completed, his compelling plan.
Of helping death do its part.
Few colors, fewer sounds.
White skin contrasts the black dress.
Faded yellow floating all around.
Splatters of red fill the rest.
A frightful figure that overwhelms.
Above the confused and thorny trails.
All the shallow know themselves.
At the sight of this female.
Breathless before being dangled.
Dead before being displayed.
Beautiful body, cold and mangled.
Death magnificently portrayed.
Multiple stab wounds in your back.
Added to the smell of war.
Mind immersed in barren black.
Gnawed eyes to watch and adore.
Dripping, dim and dreadful.
The portrait he wanted to smear.
Your future as empty as your words.
Your hollowness shown clear.
You don't know what you're missing.
Elders still die, the young still grow.
The leaves below are hissing.
At the corpse of a girl I used to know.
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
Manila is beautiful at night,
Seen from overhead, high above rainclouds in the night sky
with a tantalizing view of car exhaust and the debris of broken dreams
Manila is beautiful at night.
It comes and goes like a shadow in flickering light.
At first, it hides behind wispy rain clouds, playful as a child hiding in his mother's skirt.
If you look closely, it's lights glisten-- golden and teasing
It's incessant winking, an almost promise of what's to come
From your aerial vantage point, you wonder:
"This is what it must be like to be an Angel when they fly"
Below the city, with all it's secrets, sprawls like a handful:
A rich lady's heirloom diamonds, thrown carelessly on a ***** floor.
It will somehow remind you of a creature: perhaps human, or Leviathan in it's wake
Cities, after all, are their own specie of living things
At first it is looks like a Brain, with neurons and synapses electric and active
Certain spots of the city: mall compelexes and large parking lots, like the nuclei of a brain cell
the roads that lead to and fro, the cars zipping up and down in red and yellow lines
remind you of dendrites and axons, stretching far
They communicate with each other in their own language; a code
Your imagination runs wild with untamed fantasy
On next glance, it looks like a heart.
The whole city pulses magnificently in unison it seems.
Thud, thud. Thud, thud. You feel it?
Your heart follows it's tantalizing rhythmic pattern, it's muscle beats
Though and through the city pumps it's lifeblood into each nook and cranny
Oh how it entices your passion so.
At last you seem to hear it breathing.
Listen closely and hear Manila inhale and exhale in steady tunes
Inhale, and exhale-- a silence comes over you,
And it's strangely reminiscent of amazement, excitement and bitter fear
Your ears dull and you listen to the rush of air in your lungs,
the deep drum bass of the pounding of your heart
the dizzying feeling that exists in your brain
Manila really is beautiful at night.
In the shroud of darkness, it rises from slumber;
Vivacious and lovely, it's seductive and free
Manila is lovely. Manila is a woman, as it should be.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 1:57 PM UTC
Strange reflections, indistinct flickers whipping past, caught out of the corner of my eye.
An eldritch feeling takes over, as if to say this is what it to feel like to watch time pass by.
I lay witness to a whirlwind of intricate memories being swept away, jostled getting lost between the spaces.
The remnants of a hurricane filled with moments doomed to oblivion, intertwined inside an eternity of forgotten faces.
Anxiously I sit inside a cage of my own mold as I contemplate if this place is a sanctuary at all.
Finally realizing that those reflections were small glimmers of the pieces I let go during my own painfully beautiful fall.
Weep not for this wayward stranger, the trial and tribulations are something that we all must soldiers through.
Diligently stripping layers away, remaining hopefully that the journey will lead to something magnificently brand new.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 3:50 AM UTC
✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿
***In wonder of the world
of her mysteries
sitting here dreaming alone
I wandered over a hill one day
seeking expecting
nothing
and she appeared
like a vision
shimmering perfection
mysterious
mirage***
*I had been admiring
for years
the beauty of his heart
I had watched
from a distance
never letting myself
become apart,
there were times
he would approach
the top of the hill
always stopping
and turning back
my pounding heart
would then painfully still.
I sent him dreams
of a sweet first kiss
sprinkled visions
of starlit bliss
then one day
by the touch of grace
I looked up to find us
standing face to face.*
***I saw her in dreams before here
she was standing growing
over the hill the whole time
always she had been there
I had just not gone forward enough
I stood in awe
and she like a tulip
shivered***
*dreams, now reality
love floods this heart of mine
I stand in awe
of beauty, so magnificently divine
the essence of love whispered
and I, like a tulip
blissfully
shivered…*
✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿✿ڿڰڿ♥♥ڿڰڿ✿
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 6:46 PM UTC
Sensual by Aphrodite gift
Crafted by serenades
Beauty carved by the finest blade
Hazel diamond shades
It’s often said, weakness for elegant grace
Drives the loveliest man insane
Deprived to be nocturnal
Sleepless nights
Cursed in vain
Any man to have you…
Thorns of pain that feels eternal
Magnificently a breath taker by divine
Hallucination of the fibbed eye
To tell such lies
Rhythm of the velvet heart
Harmonies sung so peacefully & softly
Spirits are drawn together
Like two alabaster doves
Loving each other daily & nightly
Ever the moment
Hug you dearly
Love you
Like no God can ever imagine
Look me in the eyes
Can’t we just make life happen?
Lonesome heart
One failure after another
Misunderstood compassion
Misconception for love is lost
Despite of my action
Empty like deep space
Searching from dream & reality
For the sweetest taste
Asking question from the wise Oracle
Will my heart ever find a mate?
Echo’s from the cryptic name
Reminiscing in the hollow mind
Close your eyes
This is all a daze
Smoke with delusional haze
Crossing paths…
Can’t across the maze
Forbidden until time fades…
Grab both your hands
Maybe the next lifetime
Where daylight shows its beauty rays…
Never in all the life times had I lived
Time and century
From one past to present
The future blooms
From the tiniest seed
That grows life
To where our souls might cross one day
In the sphere
Of Gaia
Green plants from the beautiful ground
Blue skies
Surrounded by the beautiful white angel
Look after her soul
Protect her from who they once stole
Care for her
For she brings heart & soul
As the story goes,
The weak & the needy
Dream for no blackheart
Shot by the arrow that purges
Life
Love each other
Never fall apart
As the sunset sets
Silhouettes of the appealing moon
Dream I’ll soon…
Privileged to have created a night
A sea of enjoyment
From the one dream
Failure to grasp beauty
Until now
As if kismet intended to be…
Love each day
As if it’s your last
For one day
Maybe we could lie in the grass
Consume life
For all it’s glory
One day will write a story
If not now
Then a lifetime is worth waiting
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 4:23 AM UTC
Just like an angel flung out of space ,
My love for you will always be genuine,
A beautiful flower in my garden,
I'll forever water you,
Keep you close to the window so that you can flourish,
You're no ordinary flower but a queen in my garden,
Your enticing pheromones will feel the room,
And I'll be the only bumblebee to pollinate you, my love,
Deep inside your alluring petals covered with your nectar,
I'll be so committed in your garden,
I'll keep coming back for more and more,
And you'll magnificently bloom in all seasons.
Nov 12, 2024
Nov 12, 2024 at 11:16 PM UTC
Our souls are patterns
Intricately woven and styled
Unique in their colour blends and hues
Each soul telling it's incredible tale
In the sharp curves and soft dips
Imprinted on their thin vibrant canvas.
Carefully detailed without a stroke amiss
These delicate fabricated masterpieces
Could rip in hands too careless to admire
The aesthetic beauty of the canvas
In areas magnificently simple or blank.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 5:13 AM UTC
The colours are not colours.
This must be a shock,
For what are they if they are not colours?
Well, colours are only colours when hit by the right light at the right moment,
But even then we all see them differently
The night is evidence of this
You look at a colour upon the light
And all you see is its representation
A beautifully hand-crafted lie
Somebody crafted these colours into it,
Magnificently sure...
But if you look upon this colour
Once the black of the night has fallen
And drained away the world
You will see
Not pretty, bright red's and blue's of innocence
But the black's and grey's of life
No matter how hard you can look
The colours will have changed,
Twisted and morfed into something unrecognisable.
A lie
This is the true truth of a colour
...It is a lie
One designed to lighten and highten
And to create the fear of truth
A concoction of the human world,
Wrought to fool and impress
To impose and to play
Playing a game that they themselves don't understand
One of tricks and illusions
One to keep you up all night writing
Simple things with lying words
Everything is a lie,
Hell, even a lie is a lie
Because when Earth is no longer fit for mankind
The sun stops spinning
And the understand of anything
We mere humans have accomplished to comprehend
Is gone
This is when everything will be nothing
There will be no nothings to interpret
Not even a few measley words
Strewn together with mace and lace
They will amount to nothing,
And yet,
The colours.
Stop to see the colours
The same ones
That lie in wait for the light
To jump and give you a fright
For one day
When the night view is never ending
You wont have the glory of being fooled or illuded
And that is the greatest part of life
That life does not really matter
So why not see what's not really there
While we still can
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 10:58 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, somethings I just couldn't stop writing about:)
steps echoed down the stairs bringing a wild relief to his blare
approach of silence to regret the resilience
of an unspoken battle of illicit stares in defiance
embrace of warmth heartens the overdosing serenity
hold of love for the first time in months
bringing safe havens to my desperate soul magnificently
------ravenfeels
Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 3:25 PM UTC
I sped away one evening
through my busy little town,
gliding,
music occupying my mind,
riding down hills,
leting the wind run its fingers through my hair.
i arrived at a dusty trail that led to an old water tower
that looked over the town like a sentinel.
sweaty and redfaced i followed the trail,
my acoustic music hid behind background of everything,
a magical glow lay at the edge of the trail.
as the fiery light lit my face aflame,
i knew i was apon something special.
shining magnificently,
the most beautiful smile i had ever seen.
twas a loving smile,
the lips were brown and chapped,
the horizon illuminated it's glistening orange teeth,
the old rusty water tower became a black beauty mark,
my friends were up resting in its dimple, waiting for me.
an amazing crooked grin,
a smile so sure shot with joy,
it filled the cracks in my heart
and had me yelping with rushing happiness.
the universe giggled back
"your welcome";)
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
Luminous passion flows quite magnificently
A dance crying out to be heard
Persuading your spirit to honor the motion
So sweetly, as it stirs
A remarkable immersion of inspiring sensation
Uncovers a welcoming glance
Softly held on the face of the persuaded spirit
Who hears the cry of the dance
Gratifying spontaneity demands your attention
Be delighted by the cry that is heard
Inspiring the spirit to gently whirl and spin
To a lovely music without words
Beautiful effortless moves of revealing delight
Are honored without any question
By the spirit who hears the lovely persuading music
Of the dance of spontaneity's suggestion
Aug 19, 2010
Aug 19, 2010 at 7:15 PM UTC
She lies
magnificently,
feminine poetry,
so beautiful
in snapshot.
I feel her every word,
fiery fingertips
swirling a tempest
& I am smitten,
yet so frustrated,
I cannot touch
her luscious lips.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
When I first met Skully,
I was an ingenue in a silly fragile plastic body--
a nursery flat, a starter bed,
not yet Anne Of Queer Gables
magnificently not giving a ****
Back then,
I believed that Skully was stuffed like a bell pepper,
jammed to bursting with thoughts, dreams and
wisdom on every subject;
I didn't know, as we lay together under the ceiling fan,
that he was as vacant and distant as outer space.
He PEZed me kisses, bought me roomsful of useless junk,
and twisted me silly like a bonsai tree.
I let him.
Daydream starlets and archery targets both have curves,
and sit still for the incoming--
I spent a decade with Skully that way,
as if I'd done it with a porcupine and was proud of the damage.
Now, he sits like an unfortunate date brought to dinner--
big-eyed as a girl, smiling too much,
and adding nothing to the conversation.
Still, I can't bear to throw him out,
and so the dogs lug him around like a trophy,
scoring and striping him with their joyful teeth marks
and losing his mandible under the fold-out sofa.
My girlfriends tolerate him.
After all, he's dead, and won't start any stupid crap about threesomes.
The next door kids ask for him sometimes,
and they bowl him at empty pop bottles in the driveway.
I confess, though,
that late at night, when it's stormy, and I'm alone,
I pause before bouncing him down the basement stairs, and I say,
"Thank you, Skully,
for keeping me from having to be alone
in the years before I bloomed into my need for heart, flesh, soul,
and not just solid bone."
Then I lay one on his grinning kisser
and even add a little tongue
just to tease him
for the lack that made me leave him like a southbound bird
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 12:07 PM UTC
I dislike Spring pruning
All those dead branches that must be stripped
To bear good fruit, so necessary
I’m no Master Gardener
I’ve made mistakes before, confused
Choosing which ones to cut away
Which ones I should let stay
Make no mistake
With proper pruning the Springtime sun
Magnificently promises
Seemingly spent branches
Flowing silently, secretly with new sap
New buds, fresh leaves and blossoms
And delectable new fruit
Fruit so succulent
Better because of the pruning
May I cut away the dead branches of my life
And may I not mind the pruning
Waiting for the Master Gardener’s promise
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 6:39 PM UTC
#
*If we're "just friends.."
Then why is this
Magnificently-warm, pre:cum..
flowing down my thighs
Every single time,
I think of you.*
#
Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 10:13 PM UTC
Madly-
I am missing you:
As surely as the meadow covets the soft embrace
of morning dew;
as sure as the sky slowly awakens its canvas
to the suns soft stroke of salmon pinks
and crimson reds, light magenta's, oranges,
amber's, and pale silk Persian blues.
In these moments of absence, I am,
in more than one way,
completely enraptured by the thought of you.
Your loveliness, your smile, your kiss,
your magnificently adorned brown bluish green speckled eyes,
undulate in my thoughts brightly like moonlit folds
of surf crashing into the core of me:
slowly soaking through the sandy shores
of my equally undulant, brisk, and fluttering heart.
Then, as an off shore breeze crosses tenderly about
my waist and fingertips, seductively enveloping me,
I am reminded of how closely we laid:
Tangled beneath our blanket of fervor,
side by side, with a mutual breath of passion
as excitement cascaded through our paralleled sensoriums
and quickly translated into a fiery touch of the lips,
as a fervid scratch of the hips,
and finally into a shared exhale of relief
as if to whisper to one another “come closer, be mine.”
Still, even as these grains of memories feather effortlessly
down into my thoughts like the sands of an endless hourglass
encased with the echo of your inviting voice
enchanting me with sweet nothings,
I am left with a yearning for your physical presence.
I want you here.
Time inches along and as I slowly lie my head down to sleep,
hands clasped shut between pillow and ear,
I am, in my thoughts again, reminded of your ubiquity,
of your enamoring effect on me,
of how no matter the distance nor the time between,
baby you are here, captivating my thoughts
-madly.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 11:51 PM UTC
There is a certain art,
not the cliché form,
of such dalliance divine,
The forge of opening a woman,
Fully, to see the beautiful creation of Eden
It is not the opening of legs,
nor the parting of thighs,
such is just a middle,
a jumping point,
the truistic beginning
The delicious devouring starts
first at the mouth
where the ****** first builds
in salivating lip smacking nibbles
burning through the veins
opening the gate
breaching the uncertainty
of submitting to that wanting, always,
for someone to know
where to touch
where to lick
where to urge flesh alive
then it inches, in Picasso brushes
along the flesh,
(breast, waist, hips,)
where fingers and tongue find a certain rhythm
causing the body to sing, without thought
the song of origins
As it opens the strained passage, naturally,
wet with strange desire
curious, needing redemption
for all the lonely hours of denial
of wanting someone
to taste, smell, touch the ache away
And you will lick first the wounds;
the hurtful lashing of old lovers,
then you will be surprised
how easily she dissolves
fallen against your mouth
as you lick the silky wings
**** them between your lips
tongue the opening
getting inside enough to taste
the rouged flower, the Van Gogh surprise
bloomimg, simply, magnificently, against the lap of your tongue
only to feel, so wondrously,
her surrender, quivering,
warm against your mouth
And she will lay, breathless, trembling
moaning your name,
so grateful, so thankful
you took time with tongue and patience
to make her feel alive
To make her feel like a woman
To make her feel as if she were just birthed into this world
To be made exclusive by your worship of all she is....
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 6:29 AM UTC