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"magpie" poems
National Liberation Day Of Korea Freedom means August 15, 1945. Koreans celebrate their day of liberation. Freedom is like a Magpie, Flying in the morning sky, Above the ancient palaces of Seoul, Freedom is like the Rose of Sharon, Growing in "The land of morning calm." Freedom is like a river named Han, Unstoppable! Freedom means flying the Taegeukgi. Outside and high! Freedom is Lively, Freedom is President Moon Jae-in President of South Korea, Freedom is vibrant! Freedom is festivals, Freedom is unhindered! Freedom is a Buddhist monk, Everland!, Freedom is unbound! Freedom is tasty Kimchi, Deoksugung Palace! Freedom is lively parties, Freedom is dancing, The greatest Palaces of Seoul! Freedom is treasured! Freedom is a green bottle, Soju! Freedom is Arirang! Korea's song, A gift to the world from Korea, Freedom is Queen Min; Still remembered, Resting under a cherry blossom tree, Freedom is Seoul! A wonder to be seen on the Han River! Freedom is luminous, Busan Nightlife, Changdeokgung Palace! Freedom is unchained! Freedom is sports, Jeju-do! Freedom is escape! Freedom is honor! Battle of Inchon! Freedom is rising in the sky, One of the most dynamic cities, Seoul! Freedom is no longer Imprisoned, Freedom is camping, Freedom is priceless! Freedom is one's honor! Deoksugung Palace! Freedom is treasured! Freedom is the miracle, Seoul! Freedom is food, Freedom is Kimchi, Freedom is hopeful, Freedom is Yu Gwan-sun! Long live Korean independence! Freedom is a Buddhist monk writing, Freedom is thinking about your dreams, Not looking behind your back! Freedom is a child going to school, Freedom is ultra-modern, Seoul! Freedom is escape! Freedom is music, K-POP! Freedom is Arirang playing, Freedom is essential, White Day! Freedom, people, shining in the sun, Freedom is loved, Yuna Kim! Freedom is essential, Freedom is "The March 1st Movement", Yu Gwan-sun! Freedom is shopping, Freedom is walking our dogs, Freedom is writing what you think, Freedom is Sejong the Great!, Hangul! Freedom is bringing your dreams into the world, Freedom is poetry, Yun Dong-ju! Freedom is traditions, Freedom is wearing Hanbok. Freedom is being empowered! Freedom is. Freedom is. Freedom is. A United Korea!!! Copyright © 2013 - 2017 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
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Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 6:00 AM UTC
National Liberation Day Of Korea
National Liberation Day Of Korea Freedom means August 15, 1945. Koreans celebrate their day of liberation. Freedom is like a Magpie, Flying in the morning sky, Above the ancient palaces of Seoul, Freedom is like the Rose of Sharon, Growing in "The land of morning calm." Freedom is like a river named Han, Unstoppable! Freedom means flying the Taegeukgi. Outside and high! Freedom is Lively, Freedom is President Moon Jae-in President of South Korea, Freedom is vibrant! Freedom is festivals, Freedom is unhindered! Freedom is a Buddhist monk, Everland!, Freedom is unbound! Freedom is tasty Kimchi, Deoksugung Palace! Freedom is lively parties, Freedom is dancing, The greatest Palaces of Seoul! Freedom is treasured! Freedom is a green bottle, Soju! Freedom is Arirang! Korea's song, A gift to the world from Korea, Freedom is Queen Min; Still remembered, Resting under a cherry blossom tree, Freedom is Seoul! A wonder to be seen on the Han River! Freedom is luminous, Busan Nightlife, Changdeokgung Palace! Freedom is unchained! Freedom is sports, Jeju-do! Freedom is escape! Freedom is honor! Battle of Inchon! Freedom is rising in the sky, One of the most dynamic cities, Seoul! Freedom is no longer Imprisoned, Freedom is camping, Freedom is priceless! Freedom is one's honor! Deoksugung Palace! Freedom is treasured! Freedom is the miracle, Seoul! Freedom is food, Freedom is Kimchi, Freedom is hopeful, Freedom is Yu Gwan-sun! Long live Korean independence! Freedom is a Buddhist monk writing, Freedom is thinking about your dreams, Not looking behind your back! Freedom is a child going to school, Freedom is ultra-modern, Seoul! Freedom is escape! Freedom is music, K-POP! Freedom is Arirang playing, Freedom is essential, White Day! Freedom, people, shining in the sun, Freedom is loved, Yuna Kim! Freedom is essential, Freedom is "The March 1st Movement", Yu Gwan-sun! Freedom is shopping, Freedom is walking our dogs, Freedom is writing what you think, Freedom is Sejong the Great!, Hangul! Freedom is bringing your dreams into the world, Freedom is poetry, Yun Dong-ju! Freedom is traditions, Freedom is wearing Hanbok. Freedom is being empowered! Freedom is. Freedom is. Freedom is. A United Korea!!! Copyright © 2013 - 2017 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
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96
In the blue sky just a few specks of gray In the evening of a beautiful day Though last night it rained and more rain on the way And that more rain is needed 'twould be fair to say On a gum tree in the park the white backed magpie sing He sings all year round from the Summer to Spring But in late Winter and Spring he even sings at night So nice to hear him piping in the moonlight Spring it is with us and Summer is near And beautiful weather for the time of year Such beauty the poets and the artists inspire Of talking of Nature could one ever tire Her green of September Mother Nature wear And the perfumes of blossoms in the evening air.
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Apr 25, 2010
Apr 25, 2010 at 5:54 PM UTC
A Beautiful Day
The boy sat beneath the grey gum, listening to the magpie crooning, somewhere far above his head. He watched as the figure approached, an old man stumbling down a dirt track. "Yer back than." said the boy, standing. "Yeah." Replied the man, "I'm back." The boy sat down again "Yer staying?" "I should never have left you, I realise that now." The man replied. "Was it fun where you went?" asked the boy, "No, it was miserable." said the man, "It could never be fun without you. Have you been to the tree house lately?" "Not since you left," said the boy. "I've just been sitting here waiting, for you to take me to the carnival, where we could eat candy floss and hot dogs to our bellies ached." "I should have taken you with me, I've missed the carnivals and candy floss." The man said his eyes filling with tears. "Is the tyre still hanging over the water hole?" "Of cause it is," said the boy, "you want to go there?" "Oh yes!" Cried the man "I want to go there. More than anything I want to go there!" The boy stood up and took his hand, and together they walked across the pond. 03/03/2010
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Nov 2, 2010
Nov 2, 2010 at 1:49 AM UTC
So You're Back Than!
What beauty shines in dappled light, In misty morning air? What beauty's cloaked in foggy mist, Waiting to be shone? The light it changes endlessly, No view is ever twice, Sun and rain and mist and fog, The ever changing light. The hills they roll in endless clefts, Valleys and ridges roll, Endless land that ever goes, From dawn way out to dusk. A home it is this peaceful place, If only for a time, The comfort of the love here found, That makes a house a home. Horses graze to their delight, The moisture fine with them. The rabbits hope, the birds all sing, The magpie glides around. Few have seen the morning light, Out shining through the mist, Few there are that know delight, Of ranch's peacefulness. Here I sit in morning light, The peace it fills my soul. Refreshing rain and my delight, Out here far from home. What beauty shines in dappled light, In misty morning air? What beauty's cloaked in foggy mist, Waiting to be shone? The light it changes endlessly, No view is ever twice, Sun and rain and mist and fog, The ever changing light. ~Dappled Light by Bethany Davis, June 7, 2014
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Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
Dappled Light
She is a succulent bunch,let me be helpful, if you don't get the complex chemical scent, I call her ,"a girl of unpredictable meeting places"inotropic, is her effect, She sends heartbeats way up. Delectable too, she was, every time I tasted certain parts of her. Her avatars are numerous, like Hindu Gods With specific intention for each incarnation Onee will be pushed in to neurosis, if doesn't completely relish her infinite variety. She is a cryptic mystic, for a while  from signals I discerned and firmly believed Or is she just a creature mysterious Doubt raises it's head, like a lotus From slushy pond My eyes met her at the level of her eyes first, the rest in a haze to me was invisible, Then my heart sends a message "Right now, I missed a beat here" Heart then recites a poem, tells me, it is all her making "Don't fall in love" heart's advice, "Go, dissolve in her completely" Even my own heart has crossed sides, or is it truly an advice for my sake? Love is a hallucinogen, get it? she whistles like wind at bamboo groves from within sings like a thrush, she is a magpie, or is she a koel? Nocturnal animal, in need of mating, making calls, frantic SMS, incessant. She is wind and water, elements that make one burn and drown She spreads her yoga mat on the floor, asks me to sit cross legged Indian style, I am already for that in my mind, So I spread eagle in corpse pose, indicating, "All through my life", mother earth gives me warmth.           Shanti,   Shanti,   shanti
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 7:45 AM UTC
The Corpse Pose for Her
She is a succulent bunch,let me be helpful, if you don't get the complex chemical scent, I call her ,"a girl of unpredictable meeting places"inotropic, is her effect, She sends heartbeats way up. Delectable too, she was, every time I tasted certain parts of her. Her avatars are numerous, like Hindu Gods With specific intention for each incarnation Onee will be pushed in to neurosis, if doesn't completely relish her infinite variety. She is a cryptic mystic, for a while  from signals I discerned and firmly believed Or is she just a creature mysterious Doubt raises it's head, like a lotus From slushy pond My eyes met her at the level of her eyes first, the rest in a haze to me was invisible, Then my heart sends a message "Right now, I missed a beat here" Heart then recites a poem, tells me, it is all her making "Don't fall in love" heart's advice, "Go, dissolve in her completely" Even my own heart has crossed sides, or is it truly an advice for my sake? Love is a hallucinogen, get it? she whistles like wind at bamboo groves from within sings like a thrush, she is a magpie, or is she a koel? Nocturnal animal, in need of mating, making calls, frantic SMS, incessant. She is wind and water, elements that make one burn and drown She spreads her yoga mat on the floor, asks me to sit cross legged Indian style, I am already for that in my mind, So I spread eagle in corpse pose, indicating, "All through my life", mother earth gives me warmth.           Shanti,   Shanti,   shanti
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40
I bent down to her ear and said Thank you for all you’ve done Not just for NY But for the World She looked at me expressionless from her chair I don’t think that she understood nor cared Then I handed her a little Bag Containing two lipsticks And two pencils I think she threw the pencils on the floor and Wondered aloud Why was everyone giving her pencils? She did not notice that of the two that I gave her one was stamped in gold With the one word Hustler And on the other, two Strictly Business I made no suggestions nor references I didn’t smirk I must have appeared a bit sweet A treacly aberration It doesn’t matter I had selected two perfect reds in LA One a bit more blue and one a classic vampish carmine Blood red can be a challenge even against pale pale Skin. Standing in the lift Fully attuned she caught me not merely looking into her eyes But seeing what I saw A death’s head? I hate when I’m caught doing that Under the fluorescent light She was dog rough Pasty with sad sunken eyes I was thrown, but by what exactly Her magpie distress? Her etheric calamity? Her puffy, aging face? We sat and spoke for a while later that night She did not recognize me at all and apologized maybe it was the next day that the three of us had lunch Everyone in good spirits The mandrake’s screams Forgotten with smiles and a wink Memory bamboozled and Make-up duly applied She took out the lipstick And redrew the lines She liked the shining black case with the little black ribbon for a pull She told our companion sitting on a stoop smoking cigarettes I like your friend and I wondered does she realize that we already know one another?
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Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 3:52 PM UTC
Waiting for the Mikestand to Fly
I bent down to her ear and said Thank you for all you’ve done Not just for NY But for the World She looked at me expressionless from her chair I don’t think that she understood nor cared Then I handed her a little Bag Containing two lipsticks And two pencils I think she threw the pencils on the floor and Wondered aloud Why was everyone giving her pencils? She did not notice that of the two that I gave her one was stamped in gold With the one word Hustler And on the other, two Strictly Business I made no suggestions nor references I didn’t smirk I must have appeared a bit sweet A treacly aberration It doesn’t matter I had selected two perfect reds in LA One a bit more blue and one a classic vampish carmine Blood red can be a challenge even against pale pale Skin. Standing in the lift Fully attuned she caught me not merely looking into her eyes But seeing what I saw A death’s head? I hate when I’m caught doing that Under the fluorescent light She was dog rough Pasty with sad sunken eyes I was thrown, but by what exactly Her magpie distress? Her etheric calamity? Her puffy, aging face? We sat and spoke for a while later that night She did not recognize me at all and apologized maybe it was the next day that the three of us had lunch Everyone in good spirits The mandrake’s screams Forgotten with smiles and a wink Memory bamboozled and Make-up duly applied She took out the lipstick And redrew the lines She liked the shining black case with the little black ribbon for a pull She told our companion sitting on a stoop smoking cigarettes I like your friend and I wondered does she realize that we already know one another?
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66
Tail turned to red sunset on a juniper crown a lone magpie cawks. Mad at Oryoki in the shrine-room -- Thistles blossomed late afternoon. Put on my shirt and took it off in the sun walking the path to lunch. A dandelion seed floats above the marsh grass with the mosquitos. At 4 A.M. the two middleaged men sleeping together holding hands. In the half-light of dawn a few birds warble under the Pleiades. Sky reddens behind fir trees, larks twitter, sparrows cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep. July 1983 Caught shoplifting ran out the department store at sunrise and woke up. August 1983
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4.2k
136 Syllables At Rocky Mountain Dharma Center
A feather flutters to the floor, And as it lands I hear it roar. Scrape of talons on the bark, A sonic boom here in the dark. Through the night two lovers run, Wishing for warmth from the sun. But when I say the night is done, The love is gone, there's only one. With two the darkness is exciting, Absorb the flesh and let the night in. With one the stars seem only frightening, Blinded by the day, can't let the light in. One thing to do, to stumble on, To sing the magpie's lonely song.
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Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 2:56 AM UTC
There's Only One
This house has been far out at sea all night, The woods crashing through darkness, the booming hills, Winds stampeding the fields under the window Floundering black astride and blinding wet Till day rose; then under an orange sky The hills had new places, and wind wielded Blade-light, luminous black and emerald, Flexing like the lens of a mad eye. At noon I scaled along the house-side as far as The coal-house door. Once I looked up - Through the brunt wind that dented the ***** of my eyes The tent of the hills drummed and strained its guyrope, The fields quivering, the skyline a grimace, At any second to bang and vanish with a flap; The wind flung a magpie away and a black- Back gull bent like an iron bar slowly. The house Rang like some fine green goblet in the note That any second would shatter it. Now deep In chairs, in front of the great fire, we grip Our hearts and cannot entertain book, thought, Or each other. We watch the fire blazing, And feel the roots of the house move, but sit on, Seeing the window tremble to come in, Hearing the stones cry out under the horizons.
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3.8k
Wind
swindling the air of its delight using Cannabis pipes, i have never written high i finally understand why, pen to paper all i can write "cigarette break", cannabinoid receptors putting my mind on brink, My feet get heavy as i start to float my stress anchors me down, like a twinkling eye of a magpie drawn to the red sparks of the spliff, Grilled, Baked, chasing the magic dragon.
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Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
Marry me Mary
What does the donkey bray about? What does the pig grunt through his snout? What does the goose mean by a hiss? Oh, Nurse, if you can tell me this, I'll give you such a kiss. The cockatoo calls "cockatoo," The magpie chatters "how d'ye do?" The jackdaw bids me "go away," Cuckoo cries "cuckoo" half the day: What do the others say?
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3.7k
What Does The Donkey?
Is she still your reflection? Because I look in the mirror and only see decay I see her dancing in your eyes I know her figure is projected onto your eyelids while you sleep An hourglass full of grains of 'yesterdays' That you shatter just to fall asleep Changing behind screens as to not expose your secrets By tomorrow I will be nothing but an outline in the sand Left by children too young to know better or understand Too naïve to have seen the storm clouds rolling their way I might have been looking for a needle in a stack of hay And like a magpie you found it and hid it in your back pocket Taking my hand, distracting it from what it yearned for Using the other to pull my heart out Only now am I starting to mind the bleeding I frantically smear my insides on to my chest In the hope that I have a chance of saving myself You can try your hardest to forget me But I wont let you do so Easily I'll plague you when I finally fall in love again I'll haunt you when you stay round her house, my friend Your soup will taste like my mouth And I swear it will defeat you like poison Your skin eaten away like cotton by a moth You'll find me hidden in graveyards A twisted reminder of what we once had I am not quite driftwood yet but when I am I hope to float your way
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Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
Sweet-bitter, Bitter-sweet
A brilliant blaze high in the sky banishing the shy clouds away revealing the purest of hues, a bright blue. A single magpie flies nearby I wish it didn't stay as one for sorrow is very true I suspected the sky to suddenly cry for nature to obey, ruining my day receiving the misery due Instead the sun refused to comply the single magpie it did disobey And a second magpie came, as if on cue With two magpie it did imply what a joy will be today Two are rarely a rue To quick was I to jump to the negative presuming the worst, my fatal imperative Because when they go to fly My happiness won't die I don't need to anchor my well being on what I see Cause all I need to enjoy life is me I watch the two magpies now with amusement soaking in this wondrous moment
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Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
Two Magpies
The wild duck startles like a sudden thought, And heron slow as if it might be caught. The flopping crows on weary wings go by And grey beard jackdaws noising as they fly. The crowds of starnels whizz and hurry by, And darken like a clod the evening sky. The larks like thunder rise and suthy round, Then drop and nestle in the stubble ground. The wild swan hurries hight and noises loud With white neck peering to the evening clowd. The weary rooks to distant woods are gone. With lengths of tail the magpie winnows on To neighbouring tree, and leaves the distant crow While small birds nestle in the edge below.
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3k
Autumn Birds
What! the What!                was that which I think                               were syllables perpetrating from the sewer                  of their open commentary on my life. As though it was a live play.                 And they were the voice over scrapping at my thoughts.                                   Well if I were you! When did I ask this magpie of gossip to intrude on my daily reflections.        But no you stain that window                I want to stare outward too. Mind your own business, I know yours went bankrupt long ago..            Never paying dues to what you paid out. But never counting the cost of what                           every word cost you. Now its time to change that channel                                       to white noise. All the persistent vocals drowned out. Now I can watch my life without commentary. Others should watch themselves not others              just because your is a repeat of a dull life.
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Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
Others Commentary...
A fluff of feathers Black and white, Hide the scrawny scavenger Whose "Rick, Rick, Rick!" Identify some place of death, This careful bandit's visiting. He leaves outright robbery To his cousin jay, And flits, One disaster to the next, To see how he may capitalize. Dead carrion, his usual fodder... Yet one subzero winter day I saw a magpie perched Upon a shivering cow Belly deep in snow, and Chilled in minus 30 air, Peck-scratching through a healing scab And pulling living flesh away.
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Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
Magpie
Three dead birds on highway squashed, Roadway washed with corpses discarded as carrion, To be chewed upon by companions in a world of brothers, In a world of blood and guts, A lone magpie was seen, A sure purveyor of doom, Gloom and sorrow, For birdies splattered, No tomorrow, Perhaps they saw him too, Didn't show him due respect, They'll never know if they had regrets! Livvi Kent 09/06/2013
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Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 3:10 PM UTC
Superstitious!
the jingle jangle of those things you dangle from neck stretched thin with shiny things call me a magpie call me a baller a shot caller a hip hop drama starter kicks so fresh they came from the produce section this flash of blood diamond on my wrist costs more than the home I don’t have if I hit the switch I could make that *** drop… got my obnoxiously huge candy painted cans on my head so I can only hear the ads I want and these threads reek with so much swag the sweat, blood, and tears of little brown and yellow people I couldn’t give a **** about dropping three hundred on my mall haul and they have the nerve to ask me for the rent sounds system off the hook plasma on the wall more **** than an abandoned lot more thoughts forgot than cops in krispy kreme with a water gun and ski mask for when times get hard me and my friends are going to blow two months salary on lap dances and blow job fantasies “Aint that new track dope?” “Yeah” “You heard it?” “Naw, but they were talking about it on world star” this floatation device is going to be too heavy and I am going to drown in all of this fly fresh to death
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Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
Bawlers
the magpie stole my pen then flapped its wings to hide it fast so i couldn't see it again. i ran up the staircase so i could see how far could flee in blue's cool embrace. the day had a golden hue up the roof wind blew aloof the sky said i need you. birds were dazzled white made pleasured cry soared to high stole my all eyelight. cheerily swayed the tree cute green leaf in disbelief saw me carefree. the magpie called me then now i bet you don't regret my stealing away your pain.
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Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC
Magpies do steal
Across the sky is a blaze of scintillating gold When the dawn quietly begins to unfold Each morn is a fresh wonder As the night willfully bows down to surrender Every minute is a novel creation With scenes and sights of great sensation With every passing hour, new vistas unfold Bringing insights varied and visions manifold The blades of grass glow in sparkling dew As the sun makes his customary march anew Over the expanse of the brightening sky Feathered folks to different directions fly Here and there is many a plant in bloom That dispels all clouds of graying gloom Bees hum round opening flowers Squirrels come out from their hidden covers The gust of breeze that blows over Brings scents so sweet in the morning air The mountains that tower so high In grandeur seem to touch the sky The cuckoo and the magpie sing in joy Their nestlings have nothing to annoy The cascading falls sound the stringed trumpet Running down from the mount’s heady summit As Nature thus pipes a thousand songs In capturing sounds and melodious tunes In my heart is born a heavenly melody       That I shall pour out in euphonious rhapsody
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Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 10:41 PM UTC
Swaddled in Glory
Teenagers write poems about sadness And I diagnose Drain false narcissistic depth I choose to diagnose Girls that moan about darkness I can try emphasize At a therapeutic distance Walls rather a leather settee Cry me your conjured problems The attention that you desperately need Hug into my False intellectual façade You want your name in lights Rose-colored perception Of a overused typecast Your sadness poetic and bottomless Caught in the flight Spotlight That you cannot bear Insipid perpetuity Whining and moaning and whining Life in hard and it is not fair I’ve seen it all before But should I sit Put myself high on a pedestal Satisfied with my own scholarly ruse What I lack in qualifications I make up in apathy You wear a different coat You messy attention grabbing Poetically distraught Attracted to the next sparkly thing That will make you more interesting You magpie, you lemming, you I will hold your hand if you hold mine
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Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 8:11 PM UTC
How to be a Cocky ******* Part I
When a blue magpie told she was beautiful, she beamed like moon, every moment. an ogre in dark cloak, whom she mistook for a magician, took every bit of her divine fragrance, in exchange of misery unlimited.
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Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 8:39 AM UTC
The gullible beauty, the magpie and the apparition in a dark cloak
They looked behind the mushroom Turned every leaf over to inspect Gathered all the little people in a row every bird, the mice, each little insect. "Have you seen the Easter eggs" they were asked They all smiled and said of course not. Someone knew where they were The Elf walked the ranks like a Sergeant Major Looking for a sign on their polka faces. No, they knew nothing, Of course they did. "Where is the Easter Bunny" the Elf cried. "Bring the fellow here to me!" The Bunny with guilt written across his face shiffled forward passing the basket to the ladybird as he presented himself to the Elf. "Nothing to declare, you Majesty" said the Bunny "Dont get funny with me" suggested the Elf I can smell a plan a mile away Sunny Jim" The insects giggled a bit under their breath as the Elf frog marched towards them "Know something do we" ..then the birds laughed. They laughed so much the fell over. The Magpie stood firm and confronted the Elf "We know nothing" and burst into uncontrollable laughter. The Elf failed to see the funny side and winced. The Ladybirds had giggled their spots off The Butterfly was whizzing in circles dreaming Then it was spotted. The basket had been spotted. Crammed with Easter Eggs and delights. And it had one wish. To everyone. It said "Happy Easter". It did.
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Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:19 PM UTC
Easter Egg Hunt
They don’t feel it like your brother did. They don’t burn out in streaks of brilliant fire. They don’t get to. The magpie dies like a magpie and writhes with magpie feelings screams in a magpie voice and goes to magpie heaven.
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Oct 6, 2010
Oct 6, 2010 at 4:19 AM UTC
When the Magpies Die
Magpie alights on the eaves tonguing a bitter wild berry ***** head left, right, decides against this spot and relocates to a new one out of sight. Autumn happened today, again. Same as every year. I was under the shade of the porch, coffee in hand, and smelt a change in the taste of the wind. It's been at least ten degrees cooler and I've donned the first piece of warm clothing since April. Magpie perches on the red wooden fence on my right, still gently squeezing that berry- as if testing its ripeness. Head ***** left, head ***** right, magpie flies away. The leaves will start to turn this week. Maybe next. My coffee is lukewarm now, same as the air. Magpie sits in the yard and carefully sets his lunch down, prods his beak into the soil, picks it back up, and buries it for later. Magpie flies away. A rush of cold air sweeps through me. Same as every year. I rise and walk, mug in hand, back inside.
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Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 2:16 PM UTC
Notes on 9/8 (Magpie)