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"overturns" poems
I turn my head to the most beautiful sight of all - the sapphire, green-brown, grey ocean. (Breath In) The thick blue ocean that rolls, churns, and glistens. And the glisten slices, the glistening currents. The ripples that move the ripples that have no ending or beginning. (Breathe Out) ____ Every shape, form, and structure captured in the liquid. It smooths out. It rounds out. It rolls out, it crashes down. It’s smooth clarity. It’s smoothness it beyond me. Its beauty is truly found within its movement. It’s constant change, exchange between all forms; Connections throughout, Different experiences of the same object throughout, And out and out. I see this giant blue gulp, of sea of truly magnificent bodies of water held in a single space. As I see the land overturn over: In new shapes, colors, lengths, and everything that contrasts one thing to another I just see so much brightness, dimness, and something that overturns into another. ,,,, I can not believe this sea How it makes that sound And when nothing is around It just profound, How every jewel of the dancing ocean is a collection of drops connecting forms throughout _____ When I feel the truth of this beauty I see, the ocean, something I never created It was there to touch us To hold us This ocean was made to believe in us. Without realizing it I just fell into a deep sleep. I fell into something so deep. I felt the ocean's arms embracing me
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Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 9:51 PM UTC
Blue Depth
Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees Letting his arms hang down to laugh, The zebra stripes along his jaw Swelling to maculate giraffe. The circles of the stormy moon Slide westward toward the River Plate, Death and the Raven drift above And Sweeney guards the hornèd gate. Gloomy Orion and the Dog Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas; The person in the Spanish cape Tries to sit on Sweeney’s knees Slips and pulls the table cloth Overturns a coffee-cup, Reorganised upon the floor She yawns and draws a stocking up; The silent man in mocha brown Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes; The waiter brings in oranges Bananas figs and hothouse grapes; The silent vertebrate in brown Contracts and concentrates, withdraws; Rachel née Rabinovitch Tears at the grapes with murderous paws; She and the lady in the cape Are suspect, thought to be in league; Therefore the man with heavy eyes Declines the gambit, shows fatigue, Leaves the room and reappears Outside the window, leaning in, Branches of wistaria Circumscribe a golden grin; The host with someone indistinct Converses at the door apart, The nightingales are singing near The Convent of the Sacred Heart, And sang within the ****** wood When Agamemnon cried aloud, And let their liquid siftings fall To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud.
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3k
Sweeney Among The Nightingales
The shadows get frighteningly long, he watches in silence like a painter whose mixed up colors in the palette are found to be of no use, the pictures are muddled by inept handling of colors. once colorful skyline is suddenly pecked in to pieces by winds, the belligerent evening birds in discord; the child playing in the park now gives up her carefully structured house, receiving cues from swarms of darkness, looks at her mother as if she isn't  interested, anymore, as if feeling the encroaching loneliness. "Evening is a spoiler of beautiful things" he jots down on the page of the day in his mind "it's  enticing beauty is just a masquerade" a truth he would vouch as a fact of life. It's time to be back home, the dusk falls holding mom's finger she goes back to the lighted space of warmth that has an assurance of kiss any moment, on his way she sends a smile, just a stranger till two days before, as if saying "See you tomorrow" this little one is a fresh guest of breeze a pure blessing, sunshine rare in winter. This rusted garden bench knows him well, the fragrance of mango blossoms from a land distant in a season long past still spreads the scent of musk touches somewhere deep, brings memories from a land so far,  a land where evenings were spent under the shades of mango trees in exhilaration, awaiting the mango fruit season. A change in the lighting of sky overturns everything. time administers it's hidden poison drop by drop, the memories of an evening from afar asks in a feeble voice "Will the child come to the park to play tomorrow again?"
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
One More Evening
The shadows get frighteningly long, he watches in silence like a painter whose mixed up colors in the palette are found to be of no use, the pictures are muddled by inept handling of colors. once colorful skyline is suddenly pecked in to pieces by winds, the belligerent evening birds in discord; the child playing in the park now gives up her carefully structured house, receiving cues from swarms of darkness, looks at her mother as if she isn't  interested, anymore, as if feeling the encroaching loneliness. "Evening is a spoiler of beautiful things" he jots down on the page of the day in his mind "it's  enticing beauty is just a masquerade" a truth he would vouch as a fact of life. It's time to be back home, the dusk falls holding mom's finger she goes back to the lighted space of warmth that has an assurance of kiss any moment, on his way she sends a smile, just a stranger till two days before, as if saying "See you tomorrow" this little one is a fresh guest of breeze a pure blessing, sunshine rare in winter. This rusted garden bench knows him well, the fragrance of mango blossoms from a land distant in a season long past still spreads the scent of musk touches somewhere deep, brings memories from a land so far,  a land where evenings were spent under the shades of mango trees in exhilaration, awaiting the mango fruit season. A change in the lighting of sky overturns everything. time administers it's hidden poison drop by drop, the memories of an evening from afar asks in a feeble voice "Will the child come to the park to play tomorrow again?"
Continue reading...
36
piloted plough tills the plot overturns one season for one of greater potential profit
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Oct 26, 2022
Oct 26, 2022 at 10:31 AM UTC
01 0000
by: T.S. Eliot (1888-1965) PENECK Sweeney spreads his knees Letting his arms hang down to laugh, The zebra stripes along his jaw Swelling to maculate giraffe. The circles of the stormy moon Slide westward toward the River Plate, Death and the Raven drift above And Sweeney guards the horned gate. Gloomy Orion and the Dog Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas; The person in the Spanish cape Tries to sit on Sweeney's knees Slips and pulls the table cloth Overturns a coffee-cup, Reorganized upon the floor She yawns and draws a stocking up; The silent man in mocha brown Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes; The waiter brings in oranges Bananas figs and hothouse grapes; The silent vertebrate in brown Contracts and concentrates, withdraws; Rachel née Rabinovitch Tears at the grapes with murderous paws; She and the lady in the cape Are suspect, thought to be in league; Therefore the man with heavy eyes Declines the gambit, shows fatigue, Leaves the room and reappears Outside the window, leaning in, Branches of wistaria Circumscribe a golden grin; The host with someone indistinct Converses at the door apart, The nightingales are singing near The Convent of the Sacred Heart, And sang within the ****** wood When Agamemnon cried aloud, And let their liquid droppings fall To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 3:25 PM UTC
SWEENEY AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES
by: T.S. Eliot (1888-1965) PENECK Sweeney spreads his knees Letting his arms hang down to laugh, The zebra stripes along his jaw Swelling to maculate giraffe. The circles of the stormy moon Slide westward toward the River Plate, Death and the Raven drift above And Sweeney guards the horned gate. Gloomy Orion and the Dog Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas; The person in the Spanish cape Tries to sit on Sweeney's knees Slips and pulls the table cloth Overturns a coffee-cup, Reorganized upon the floor She yawns and draws a stocking up; The silent man in mocha brown Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes; The waiter brings in oranges Bananas figs and hothouse grapes; The silent vertebrate in brown Contracts and concentrates, withdraws; Rachel née Rabinovitch Tears at the grapes with murderous paws; She and the lady in the cape Are suspect, thought to be in league; Therefore the man with heavy eyes Declines the gambit, shows fatigue, Leaves the room and reappears Outside the window, leaning in, Branches of wistaria Circumscribe a golden grin; The host with someone indistinct Converses at the door apart, The nightingales are singing near The Convent of the Sacred Heart, And sang within the ****** wood When Agamemnon cried aloud, And let their liquid droppings fall To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 3:25 PM UTC
SWEENEY AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES
I am small in my galoshes the sun reflects into rivers of light, we are adventurers my fried and I, lost boys hidden under our lace and braids, together under one second star to the right umbrella the hale gray sky overturns in our eyes We gather moss under our nails, dark hairs tangle with violet march thistles birds are dark spear heads thrown from the earth. The world is raw, flawless against our chapped lips splitting into grins. We smear the red away like war paint across rocks and bark, our arms and cheeks. We are fierce and do not know what it means yet, to give our blood so freely. The rivers of light fade into the evening. Shadows slide from our backs and grow in silence. The blood dries and flakes away into nothing.
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Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
Lost Rites of Spring
Autumn leaves colored by the sound of lonely thoughts travelling like Leotigers in deep waterfalls searching true forgiveness for all we ever were revealing a victorious haze through witch we see who cares Winters lack of color gently overturns the silent dance of flower buds t'wards hope and not concerns then Spring and Summer once again will let us all behold our ship sets sail for joyful smiles not silver, bronze nor gold with smiling lips we find our hearts were made to be forgiving and I can shout and really mean it: I     LOVE     LIVING!
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Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 8:03 AM UTC
forgiveness
I am the consumer of a thousand worlds And the mother of a thousand others I have killed mothers, sons, fathers Left whole nation's in Ash I am the future, I am the past You can never have enough I am keeper of Crips. Eater of bone I'm the one who carves the mountain eyes And burns the sky's And overturns every lie I'm the child's playground Pure creative and Of mass destruction And when the ones who challenge say I am alive I will survive I have the power I have the hand It is my hour at my feet you stand for I am man I AM MAN I gently whisper in their ear Look behind What you'll find Can't keep me off your mind For I have nature as my servant Foe I flow the never ending serpent But I have no need to remind Of what I am, for I am TIME.
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Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 4:31 PM UTC
What am I?
My mind is a swirl. It twirls and whirls and twists. It never is quiet, it never is still. My mind is a swirl. Unceasingly inventing, endlessly creating. My mind is a swirl like a tumult ocean rocking a sailboat back and forth until it overturns and dumps out all of its beautiful contents. My mind is a swirl that encompasses my body, lifting me up, bringing me down. My mind is a swirl that twirls and whirls and twists. It never is quiet, it never is still.
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Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
My Mind
These past few weeks I have been ashamed to be white The audacity of what's happening is sickening Why are we still having these problems? We turned away from slavery to show that we were all equal Just to prove that we are far from it We try to exclaim that America is the greatest country in the world As we cover our problems behind media hype and breaking news full of lies and delusions The fact that we can't swallow our pride shows that we have much work to do Michael Brown and Trayvon Martin proving that we don't value a single life but our own Even though each soul is valuable Why do we have to use violence to try and show that we are against violence Why do we talk about gun control but have our police officers pulling triggers on innocent victims Why do we talk about "We the People" when it's really just the people with the right paychecks and complexion that have the voice and the power Each hour more and more are being silenced just so we can look the part We conform to fit this mold that we have imposed on ourselves Forcing our morals and values to take a back seat on our power trip I'm tired of turning on the TV to see news reports on tragedies Killings and shootings Kidnappings and hate crimes People come to this country for the American dream But this place is more like a nightmare The rich living the dream While everyone else fights for their own taste of the good life When we have the resources to give everyone the good life Love is becoming harder to find because we want power We **** for power Fight for power Eat, sleep, and breathe power Not knowing that the price of power Is worth more than any life When will we see that beneath our clothes and skin tones We are all the same When will we see what we are doing to our brothers and sisters When will we bring peace that overturns the hold we have on our image The hold it has on power I pray for equality I pray for the day we can walk the streets and not worry I don't see why equality is so hard come by
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Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
A Lesbian White Girl's Perspective
These past few weeks I have been ashamed to be white The audacity of what's happening is sickening Why are we still having these problems? We turned away from slavery to show that we were all equal Just to prove that we are far from it We try to exclaim that America is the greatest country in the world As we cover our problems behind media hype and breaking news full of lies and delusions The fact that we can't swallow our pride shows that we have much work to do Michael Brown and Trayvon Martin proving that we don't value a single life but our own Even though each soul is valuable Why do we have to use violence to try and show that we are against violence Why do we talk about gun control but have our police officers pulling triggers on innocent victims Why do we talk about "We the People" when it's really just the people with the right paychecks and complexion that have the voice and the power Each hour more and more are being silenced just so we can look the part We conform to fit this mold that we have imposed on ourselves Forcing our morals and values to take a back seat on our power trip I'm tired of turning on the TV to see news reports on tragedies Killings and shootings Kidnappings and hate crimes People come to this country for the American dream But this place is more like a nightmare The rich living the dream While everyone else fights for their own taste of the good life When we have the resources to give everyone the good life Love is becoming harder to find because we want power We **** for power Fight for power Eat, sleep, and breathe power Not knowing that the price of power Is worth more than any life When will we see that beneath our clothes and skin tones We are all the same When will we see what we are doing to our brothers and sisters When will we bring peace that overturns the hold we have on our image The hold it has on power I pray for equality I pray for the day we can walk the streets and not worry I don't see why equality is so hard come by
Continue reading...
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I've loved and lived and lost it all My voice never carried through that wire Telling you that I'm okay, That I didn't fall The battle wages on, I surrendered to the fire Watching over you now, I'll await the hallucinations that transpire I'll be watching over you as you grow and age I'll be the wind that overturns your page I gave my life for my country So do not cry for me because I did not die
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Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 10:16 PM UTC
Proud Surrender.
I wonder about you What you must be thinking If the memories are still lingering Through your cluttered mind Maybe they aren't easy to find But I hope they are there Because in all honesty I cant help but to care You were my all Now you're like a bridge that I've watched crumble and fall Do you see what your doing? Don't you feel your heart spewing And gasping for air Or is this all too much to bear? Do you block it out like a barbed wire Every time you touch the piece to see your desire It stings. It burns. The pain overturns the thought The memory So even though you don't know what was said to me I do, and I feel it Like a lost commit
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Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 1:40 PM UTC
Crash
And so here it is: My secrets, my fortune! The untold treasure harbored within my mind-- impeccable wisdom, and tormented genius! I come to find illumination and write poems-- in such a fashion as this: It is I, with heart on my sleeve where I cough and sneeze, becoming mired and virulent-- utterly human and fraught for the world to see. The magician who empties his sleeves, overturns his top hat, shying off his smooth pallid gloves! Lies down on stage, in a pool of my own blood and ***** retching, trembling, aching, gasping for air roasting under an inquisitive lonely spotlight I stare into with a distant and longing gaze-- Eyes vacuous, bulbous in sick contortion bulging veins popping cracked lips gaping mouth tongue waggling speaking in tongues choking air and body trembling in hideous convulsions-- for what benefit have I, to purport and distort myself in such a fashion? It is for the sake of humanity, in the flagellation of the human conscience as it queries further into the ambiguous amorphous impalpable dark matter of the universe-- it is for our sake, our illumination, that I retch, and I ache. Take note.
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Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 1:36 AM UTC
My Writing Process
My husband when i dream. {my year crush} I can't stop thinking about him his arms around my shoulders his voice in my ear ringing over and over I cant stop thinking about him his silly little jokes the way his glasses sits on his nose the way he frowns when I decide it's him i want to poke. I cant stop thinking about him the way his hair feels the way his beard feels the way im head over the hills I wont stop thinking about him the way his patience overturns negation the way he holds my attention even when my minds' racin' I wont stop thinking about him he crosses my mind all the time taking his time, precious time to blow kisses and taunt my mind teasing me because he know he's stuck here to stop thinking i must do it, so i can keep track of what i need to do here but alas, his kisses leaves me breathless and his embrace leaves me thoughtless his arms leave me as jello. A jiggling, giggling girl wanting him to - never let go.
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Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
-Visits-
we hit the wall and then the world goes down into the dark and nothing good returns for all we’ve done what once was gold is brown as winter comes like satan into town all minds are numb just as the river churns we hit the wall and then the world goes down a sad destruction but no one will frown believing that we get what the thief earns for all we’ve done what once was gold is brown now skies are darker than a priestly gown for what one makes the other overturns we hit the wall and then the world goes down so no one stands for hope or for renown but gets instead just what the ******* earns for all we’ve done what once was gold is brown this is the truth where hero becomes clown you have to flee before the city burns we hit the wall and then the world goes down for all we’ve done what once was gold is brown
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Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
the world goes down
the world is full of tragedy first a plane is lost then a ship it overturns and bodies they tossed children in the water trying to survive while the captain jumps his ship so he can stay alive leaving them all stranded he just didnt care about the children left behind left to struggle there the world is full of tragedy without a reason why happening at will making people die it is such a sin it has to be this way nothing we can do as for the dead we pray.
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Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
tragedy
I see you in the halls, I know you see me too and I can't help but wonder: why? what do you see? you're so much better than me. when I touch you my stomach overturns with the soft fluttering of delicate, heart-shaped butterflies it never lasts long but it always happens. you mean the world to me you are everything to me you warm me, despite incurable chill you are the dawning Summer, sweeping away the rains of spring. but sometimes in the small moments of night before I close my eyes, I wonder what if? what if I tried too hard? what if you stopped seeing me, as we pass in the halls I doubt myself. I doubt that the ethereal strength of my tainted soul could endure such unfathomable torment. willpower is brittle and things break, that do not bend. and as finger strikes key after key I wonder if you will read this and wonder at the length of this piece this poem... feelings like these do not come lightly and the passion never fades. so know now this great extent, and know that I will always be here in this work because feeling is timeless, thought boundless, and writing limitless, so it becomes my tool, my vessel, the capsule to contain me in my emotion for you.
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Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
Summer
tomorrow’s a new day when this night Will be forgotten And the light and the might of the eager armies surging to war we’ll have forgotten what the fight had been for and the wind whispers peaceful death over grass reaching for height and the moon in the morning sky and the silver-hot fright which the living things move by driven to flight when the quickening pulse and the mood is just right when the life-shedding earth snake pulls my skin around tight i will cling to the new grass Like the cold morning frost i will sing to the very last i will sing very lost Like the song of the deep sea Like the howl of the stray dog who scours the night streets outlined in the dense fog when the earth overturns itself yet again as it always does when the ends of the universe touch me, soft like my mother’s blood i will change in the darkness like a lady ********** i will cast in my fury every trapping and dressing I will rage in the silent storm I will find peace at last I will blaze across eons I will lie in the grass
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Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 1:17 AM UTC
When the Grass
My fingertips have lost feeling I stumble over nothing but no matter what I try my stomach overturns when you walk into the room.
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Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
Untitled
Boat overturns Immigrant swims Trauma begins Risking all for family A life a little better, A strange future In a strange land Living step by step A survival dance Different chance Risking all To be safer
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Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
ARRIVAL
as the mountain towers over the shrivelled earth and the remnants of yesteryears, who knew that underneath grass, the clover lies in wait; bidding time for when the ploughboy wends across the field, overturns the soil and shackles the ground it was a struggle under the starless skies a wrestle with the shadows of the mountain and little could he grasp and amount in, but still he tries again and again   the mountain sees and sings for the ploughboy's labour to not be in vain for the clover to break ground and for them to sprout as one in the rain.
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Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
plough through