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"paves" poems
They look out from the terrace. At the borders of sight live rocky hills behind brown and golden and olive crop under a cloudless sky. BANG! An artificial cloud. “Mira,” she points, “Venga!” They fly down stairs, diving like sparrows into the street. Boys sprint across pavements and climb; men vault over fences in time for news to reach ears. "¡Ya vienen!" Excitement and fear. The rattling of cow bells and galloping nears. Men bait and dodge horns and escape through doors and up and over red wooden bars. Sticks beat on the concrete ground and closer, louder, gallops sound. Seconds away – until the last, he side steps into a house; indoors, apart, he runs through the foyer and up the stairs around a corner with long strides too fast to follow. She chooses left and sings soprano when doors won't budge and        it                       crashes                                        in. She turns and the fear is paralysing. "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" He hurdles the stairs and explodes but it rams her to and fro, thrashing her head against the wall where horns sin and gore cement and brick. He clasps the tail and heaves its hide from side to side as hooves smash crates of wine - they slip and slide in fractured glass; he finds a horn and yanks the head! He's yanked instead near dead before the men arrive down stairs to punch and kick it; strike and stick it smack and hit it; 'til it fits and quits and flees the foyer, fast and frantic, flying flustered by the frenzy, finally finding pattering paves it peters off down the street. "¿Que ha pasado?   ¿Quien ha sido?   ¡El Balbotin   y la Chicha!   ¡Que una vaca   les ha pillado!" "¿Estas bien?" Dizzy she's there with searching hands and scolding. "Podria haber sido peor"
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Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 7:09 PM UTC
Fermin el Balbotin
They look out from the terrace. At the borders of sight live rocky hills behind brown and golden and olive crop under a cloudless sky. BANG! An artificial cloud. “Mira,” she points, “Venga!” They fly down stairs, diving like sparrows into the street. Boys sprint across pavements and climb; men vault over fences in time for news to reach ears. "¡Ya vienen!" Excitement and fear. The rattling of cow bells and galloping nears. Men bait and dodge horns and escape through doors and up and over red wooden bars. Sticks beat on the concrete ground and closer, louder, gallops sound. Seconds away – until the last, he side steps into a house; indoors, apart, he runs through the foyer and up the stairs around a corner with long strides too fast to follow. She chooses left and sings soprano when doors won't budge and        it                       crashes                                        in. She turns and the fear is paralysing. "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" "FERMIN!" He hurdles the stairs and explodes but it rams her to and fro, thrashing her head against the wall where horns sin and gore cement and brick. He clasps the tail and heaves its hide from side to side as hooves smash crates of wine - they slip and slide in fractured glass; he finds a horn and yanks the head! He's yanked instead near dead before the men arrive down stairs to punch and kick it; strike and stick it smack and hit it; 'til it fits and quits and flees the foyer, fast and frantic, flying flustered by the frenzy, finally finding pattering paves it peters off down the street. "¿Que ha pasado?   ¿Quien ha sido?   ¡El Balbotin   y la Chicha!   ¡Que una vaca   les ha pillado!" "¿Estas bien?" Dizzy she's there with searching hands and scolding. "Podria haber sido peor"
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95
Her presence cannot be denied, She stands tall and strong with pride; You cannot overlook her magnitude, Because she has beauty with attitude; What a woman, What a woman indeed, What a strong Black woman, For her just even be. She defines the essence of perfection, In each notable fashion without exception; Highly cognizant of her forefather and mothers, Therefore she paves paths for so many others, What a woman, What a woman indeed, What a strong Black woman, Even for a crazy world to see. Her smile is like heaven's gate open, Bringing joy to all who are chosen; A lady of strength beyond any measure, And a heart too big for one person for treasure; What a woman, What a woman indeed, What a strong Black woman, Who wound up inspiring me.
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Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
Strong Black Woman
To Paint a Water Lily A green level of lily leaves Roofs the pond's chamber and paves The flies' furious arena: study These, the two minds of this lady. First observe the air's dragonfly That eats meat, that bullets by Or stands in space to take aim; Others as dangerous comb the hum Under the trees. There are battle-shouts And death-cries everywhere hereabouts But inaudible, so the eyes praise To see the colours of these flies Rainbow their arcs, spark, or settle Cooling like beads of molten metal Through the spectrum. Think what worse is the pond-bed's matter of course; Prehistoric bedragoned times Crawl that darkness with Latin names, Have evolved no improvements there, Jaws for heads, the set stare, Ignorant of age as of hour— Now paint the long-necked lily-flower Which, deep in both worlds, can be still As a painting, trembling hardly at all Though the dragonfly alight, Whatever horror nudge her root.
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9.8k
How To Paint A Water Lily
They are the heart givers and the breath takers without them I cannot live but just like my exgirlfriend they can't seem to find where they left their compassion. I cannot breathe but that is only because it cost too much to live understanding their desire of money it pains me to know greed not of my own will be the cause of my death. That in my generosity I forgot planting trees does not grow the greens they seek and the carrots sprouting are ones they eat not the ones they don't wear to the office but dance around their family with. Education was supposed to be their gravity and with each ounce of knowledge built an anchor to the moon because instead of humanity they've become a celestial star whose imagination wanders outside the orbit of those who may be suffering. A broken hearted soul paves the waiting room with their corpse because while in the void something had to go and it wasn't the money but a man that couldn't afford to keep his heart going.
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Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC
Doctor's I can't afford
The power of Averages, it means a lot if you can understand Means, a lot. Assuming a Normal Distribution, A Standard Deviation, or σ defines where about 68% of the data falls; roughly 34% above and below the Mean. Two Standard Deviations defines where a further 28% of data lies; 14% above and below 1σ and -1σ. Positive 1-Sigma is one Standard Deviation above the Mean Negative 1-Sigma is one below; The range from -2σ to 2σ includes  96% of data. The implications are astounding. Within 3 Standard Deviations, one finds 99.7% of the data; Within 4σ, 99.9%, 5σ, 99.999%, the remainder are generally outliers and other improbable results. To illustrate: Suppose we had a group of 100 people, and we wish to determine average height: If our Mean height ends up being, say, 180 cm, with a Standard Deviation of 20cm, We can suppose that of 100 people, on average, with a certain Margin of Error that is inversely proportionate to our Sample Size, or n (for sake of argument, the Probable Error, or γ, is 13.49cm) 4 are taller than 220cm 14 are between 200cm and 220cm 68 are between 160cm and 200cm 14 are from 140cm to 160cm 4 are shorter than 140cm -- Statistics is the parent of Probability; Statistics is the Art and Science of Forecast, Statistics paves the way for modern Science Statistics is a powerful weapon in the fight against Ignorance Statistics, however, are generally and intentionally misrepresented and thus misunderstood. For increasingly accurate figures, one must have a larger Sample Size and a Sample group that is a representative subgroup of the Whole *This is intentionally abused by most of the News you read or see each day on Paper and Screens alike.* If a "Statistical analysis" does not include at least Margin of Error or Probable Error, Mean (Average), Standard Deviation, and Sample Size do not take it as accurate. Depending on the source, it could even be deliberately malicious. Arm yourself with Knowledge.
0
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
The Art and Science of Statistics
The power of Averages, it means a lot if you can understand Means, a lot. Assuming a Normal Distribution, A Standard Deviation, or σ defines where about 68% of the data falls; roughly 34% above and below the Mean. Two Standard Deviations defines where a further 28% of data lies; 14% above and below 1σ and -1σ. Positive 1-Sigma is one Standard Deviation above the Mean Negative 1-Sigma is one below; The range from -2σ to 2σ includes  96% of data. The implications are astounding. Within 3 Standard Deviations, one finds 99.7% of the data; Within 4σ, 99.9%, 5σ, 99.999%, the remainder are generally outliers and other improbable results. To illustrate: Suppose we had a group of 100 people, and we wish to determine average height: If our Mean height ends up being, say, 180 cm, with a Standard Deviation of 20cm, We can suppose that of 100 people, on average, with a certain Margin of Error that is inversely proportionate to our Sample Size, or n (for sake of argument, the Probable Error, or γ, is 13.49cm) 4 are taller than 220cm 14 are between 200cm and 220cm 68 are between 160cm and 200cm 14 are from 140cm to 160cm 4 are shorter than 140cm -- Statistics is the parent of Probability; Statistics is the Art and Science of Forecast, Statistics paves the way for modern Science Statistics is a powerful weapon in the fight against Ignorance Statistics, however, are generally and intentionally misrepresented and thus misunderstood. For increasingly accurate figures, one must have a larger Sample Size and a Sample group that is a representative subgroup of the Whole *This is intentionally abused by most of the News you read or see each day on Paper and Screens alike.* If a "Statistical analysis" does not include at least Margin of Error or Probable Error, Mean (Average), Standard Deviation, and Sample Size do not take it as accurate. Depending on the source, it could even be deliberately malicious. Arm yourself with Knowledge.
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51
Hope, A dangerous thing I might think. Wins wars, Kills thousands, influences stocks, Keeps people alive, DRIVES GREED, inspires the young, slowly coaxes suicide, starching the past and paves the futures paths. It can be exploited and Used, broken and bruised. Shining through the darkness while strangling the few. Its rain every day. The lonesome star peaking through the clouds on a dreary night. It’s the glimpse of sun following the darkness. Revolution is its son and independence are it its daughters. IT’S LOVE Knowledge that there’s more or that it’s all over, Knowledge of the Unknown. Its leaving the light on when no one’s coming home Its tears that are not wasted, every drop alive with expression. It’s lingering scents of distant memories, people and places. Its wanting. Waiting. Needing. It’s all over. Or is it? It’s Hope Quite dangerous indeed.
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 3:15 PM UTC
Hope
Once again a still sunrise, Quite too much to my surprise; Now no longer the same reprise, Never believing in fate's demise. Once again awaits the sun, Otherworldly; waits for none; Terrestrial battles with wars unsung, The time is now, and has begun. Once waves of calamity striking the coast, Now sinking caravels with swift riposte; This paves the insanity to roads of most, No graves on marvels without a host. My ambiguous ocean, bounds not to the throes, An effluent river asks not where it goes; But through frigid winters it finally froze, Yet two rigid reasons -- it once again flows. Your guess is as mine, for nobody knows, This mess is divine, and to us it bestows; Thrown into disaster, yet much room for prose, We are the ship-masters -- and everyone rows. So set my oars down, and go for the sails, Open your eyes, ears & mind; there is no trail; Wandering didactic wisp you will find, futility of 'fail', Galactic inhale, cosmic exhale, maybe then will the true path unveil. So leave nasty mates; abandon the ship, No mutiny required, just let the wreck tip, As though through spread fingers they suddenly slip, Though red feelings linger, you find your own grip. Then leave folly habits -- straight at the shore, Shut it & lock it, and close the **** door; There always are options -- endless possibilities to explore, Just activate your wings, open wide--soar. Glad once again, for another sunset, What you pursue is what you will get; So forget calumet, anisette & cigarettes, Simply don't fret -- paint vignettes with no regrets.
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Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 1:17 AM UTC
Sceni(deli)c Horizons
Once again a still sunrise, Quite too much to my surprise; Now no longer the same reprise, Never believing in fate's demise. Once again awaits the sun, Otherworldly; waits for none; Terrestrial battles with wars unsung, The time is now, and has begun. Once waves of calamity striking the coast, Now sinking caravels with swift riposte; This paves the insanity to roads of most, No graves on marvels without a host. My ambiguous ocean, bounds not to the throes, An effluent river asks not where it goes; But through frigid winters it finally froze, Yet two rigid reasons -- it once again flows. Your guess is as mine, for nobody knows, This mess is divine, and to us it bestows; Thrown into disaster, yet much room for prose, We are the ship-masters -- and everyone rows. So set my oars down, and go for the sails, Open your eyes, ears & mind; there is no trail; Wandering didactic wisp you will find, futility of 'fail', Galactic inhale, cosmic exhale, maybe then will the true path unveil. So leave nasty mates; abandon the ship, No mutiny required, just let the wreck tip, As though through spread fingers they suddenly slip, Though red feelings linger, you find your own grip. Then leave folly habits -- straight at the shore, Shut it & lock it, and close the **** door; There always are options -- endless possibilities to explore, Just activate your wings, open wide--soar. Glad once again, for another sunset, What you pursue is what you will get; So forget calumet, anisette & cigarettes, Simply don't fret -- paint vignettes with no regrets.
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36
Barrage of societal Pressure, The quicksand beneath Success. Who paves the way To the narrow curves with thorns, Family or Foes? Thin air provides the deceitful mask of comfort Nothing is real. Life is as dead as a shadow With a surreal ghost. Supported by a strand We are all dark matter. We are Rusty. Yet we hold on to hopeless Hopes And dark dreamy dreams. We are noth' but puppets. Who is the puppeteer? Who decides the end? For now, we swing to the strings of manipulation Until this shadow fades into the dark Light.
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Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
Manipulation
take sips sip sips tumble down the flowers bundled in white towels at my rose hips from raised graves velvet hearse sandstone paves push away stones along way soothe change patterns surprise break the consonance act-like defiance it's harder than we thought hurry get back to the tower don't choke on the pink powder before I get there complex lush doesn't need any soldiers off horse, of course only I reside in these gardens part my own lawns to my great gates a dosed beast waits and I must return
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Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 2:14 AM UTC
Complex
As a pale phantom with a lamp Ascends some ruin’s hainted stair, So glides the moon along the damp Mysterious chambers of the air. Now hidden in cloud, and now revealed, As if this phantom, full of pain, Were by the crumbling walls concealed, And at the windows seen again. Until at last, serene and proud In all the splendor of her light, She walks the terraces of cloud, Supreme as Empress of the Night. I look, but recognize no more Objects familiar to my view; The very pathway to my door Is an enchanted avenue. All things are changed. One mass of shade, The elm-trees drop their curtains down; By palace, park, and colonnade I walk as in a foreign town. The very ground beneath my feet Is clothed with a diviner air; While marble paves the silent street And glimmers in the empty square. Illusion! Underneath there lies The common life of every day; Only the spirit glorifies With its own tints the sober gray. In vain we look, in vain uplift Our eyes to heaven, if we are blind; We see but what we have the gift Of seeing; what we bring we find.
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3.3k
Moonlight
She paves the path Of dynasties carved With buckets of sludge upon back; Bent, not unlike her mother’s limb, But under shinier red flags, Cloth coated, with lesser blood. She’d had a hint of gray She’d not had last time, She had a newer limp She’d not had last time, Her ***** furthered from firm, Reaching for the ground, a promise, In years to be wed with, And yet the underneath Of it all remained as radiant As any sun’d ever been; And come the cloudy day she leaves, Even mine own eye Will remain far from dry As I’d remember freshly cured bacon, And her tender chopsticks offering life; She’d saved me once, she’d save me again.
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Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
Bacon, Breathe, and Benevolent
Say a prayer for the farmer who has been long pushed away walk until you find your comfort in night's fog of minds maze Ask forgiveness for hypocrisy as we look into this dark sky remember blood shed paves way our souls will never ever die
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
Prayer for the Passing
The monumental smile on your continental eyes. And the impossible question they pose. I pine in sweet denial, and build cities from goodbyes. And reminiscence paves the road.
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Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
Cities
Ignorance enemy of our lives Ignorance paves our perception of what life is when our parents are on the picture yet as soon as the picture fades away Ignorance pushes reality check to sink in and when it does our lives are turned up side down Ignorance is a state of mind that refuses to know right from wrong It controls our mind into thinking that it is what it is It only comes to **** and destroy one's intellectual like the enemy Yet when it leaves and the friend visits Questions of sorrow and guilt arise Why was I so? Why didn't I? I could have just I wish If only And only then time will have fled for it has no accomplices,it goes as planned We are trapped in ignorance so much that we never see the importance of the picture to hang in there We always walk pass through it as if it will always be there to guide us. Time and ignorance have trapped the minds of born frees into thinking that is how it is suppose to be living young and free Chains of ignorance have left uneducated child headed homes Born frees with no vision Born frees chasing behind a job instead of a career Born frees passionate about wages instead of a vision The unfolding vision of the born frees is yet to be told when the born frees are free from the chains of ignorance the enemy
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Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC
Ignorance enemy of our lives
Forever falling Through the open hearts of outstretched arms Tunnel vision of the past Paves the roads ahead The off-ramps of destiny are untamed, forgotten, and overgrown No safety awaits me, and There is no shelter under the roof of a broken home Storms chase me, but In thunderclouds I drown out the world Wanderer Weary of only the weather Inside his own reflection
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Jul 1, 2021
Jul 1, 2021 at 3:47 PM UTC
Forever Falling
Winter walks beside me, kisses my skin with frozen lips, paves my path with ice, whispers snowflakes, tells me spring is dead. Leafless trees scratch a molten sky. A pale sun caught in gnarly branches bleeds into the ground, seeps to the roots of comatose trees. Spring stirs, winter lied. @Cristina Umpfenbach-Smyth 2011
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Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 6:36 PM UTC
WINTER WALK.
The world tells their young That abstinence is old fashion, that innocence is over and done. That to make something of themselves They must give this much to someone else That *** paves the road to success. What standards should I view best? Am I a woman now? Look at me. trying to understand my insecurity Wallowing in pathetic purity They tell me I'll never find love for more than a day If I can't even let him get to second base. That I should give my innocence to him, I should join him in a ****** rhythm. That I should have fun and forget what the bible has to say, To find temporary bliss for a night and misery the following day. Maybe I should fall into the mainstream, Because popularity should fix my self esteem.. Am I a woman now? I've tried so hard to lock myself away, To keep myself pure in the light of day, But night comes around and leads my thoughts astray, Maybe *** is just a game we play. Perhaps I'll test the waters but on the ground my feet with stay I'll try things out but not go "all the way" Am I a woman now? God, I need you here right now. I went too far and broke every single vow Of innocence that I pledged to you. And asking for forgiveness is all I know to do. Am I a woman now? Being broken by the worlds expectation, Being deceived in my contemplation. Don't ever lose yourself, Not to birth control or the ****** on the shelf. Not to boys or to loneliness in the middle of the week, Be strong, be as much of yourself that you can possibly bear to be. Because the negativity and hatred of the earth, Will try to **** your spirit and tell you what your worth. We're no better than the world and *** is a natural inclination, But if we are the body of Christ we have a God-given obligation I'm scared, have I done what I'm supposed to do? Did I do what's right according to God or you? Am I a woman now? That's all I wanted, to be beautiful or gorgeous in someone else's eyes, But I think I've only accomplished that by the words that humans make into deadly lies. They looked so appealing and delicious, But I'd advise you to avoid something so malicious, Because there's remorse and expensive emotional debt, When we conform to the world and allow ourselves to forget, That God made *** a spiritual experience to share as a couple, Only with each other, It's a passionate emotion that should be known solely by a significant other, The two bound by marriage, in spirit, and with rings So that the world can see they Can show the world what each spirit brings To a relationship in Christ alone In whom my unwavering worth is known. Am I a woman now? --Emily Rutledge
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
Am I a Woman Yet?
The world tells their young That abstinence is old fashion, that innocence is over and done. That to make something of themselves They must give this much to someone else That *** paves the road to success. What standards should I view best? Am I a woman now? Look at me. trying to understand my insecurity Wallowing in pathetic purity They tell me I'll never find love for more than a day If I can't even let him get to second base. That I should give my innocence to him, I should join him in a ****** rhythm. That I should have fun and forget what the bible has to say, To find temporary bliss for a night and misery the following day. Maybe I should fall into the mainstream, Because popularity should fix my self esteem.. Am I a woman now? I've tried so hard to lock myself away, To keep myself pure in the light of day, But night comes around and leads my thoughts astray, Maybe *** is just a game we play. Perhaps I'll test the waters but on the ground my feet with stay I'll try things out but not go "all the way" Am I a woman now? God, I need you here right now. I went too far and broke every single vow Of innocence that I pledged to you. And asking for forgiveness is all I know to do. Am I a woman now? Being broken by the worlds expectation, Being deceived in my contemplation. Don't ever lose yourself, Not to birth control or the ****** on the shelf. Not to boys or to loneliness in the middle of the week, Be strong, be as much of yourself that you can possibly bear to be. Because the negativity and hatred of the earth, Will try to **** your spirit and tell you what your worth. We're no better than the world and *** is a natural inclination, But if we are the body of Christ we have a God-given obligation I'm scared, have I done what I'm supposed to do? Did I do what's right according to God or you? Am I a woman now? That's all I wanted, to be beautiful or gorgeous in someone else's eyes, But I think I've only accomplished that by the words that humans make into deadly lies. They looked so appealing and delicious, But I'd advise you to avoid something so malicious, Because there's remorse and expensive emotional debt, When we conform to the world and allow ourselves to forget, That God made *** a spiritual experience to share as a couple, Only with each other, It's a passionate emotion that should be known solely by a significant other, The two bound by marriage, in spirit, and with rings So that the world can see they Can show the world what each spirit brings To a relationship in Christ alone In whom my unwavering worth is known. Am I a woman now? --Emily Rutledge
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61
Carcass of an old Self Death paves way for Regeneration - a service gifted Within one generation Without alienation Dips and follies only culminate in the diamond from coal My heart sits where he sits Now, I'm the same wounded healer No night time dealers beware We know survival skills - We are soft but we could **** Touch the hummingbirds wing Send fear running We quick , we cunning Evade the fortress walls Tumble the towers with rose petal showers Weapon of choice - a smile Business card states that I spread love and he spreads laughter You know we ain't after cash But that's the whiplash Anyway We were born to play , so we play it well , better than I'd care to tell Stay humble leave no room to grumble Keep the tune light , till we ignite the daytime night My soul is his soul and his soul is mine It's not essential so we ignore space and time No way to express the words that don't flow when the energy exchange is enough to know , my child's father My lover is harmonies peals and sweet serenading appeals I , gift , me unto you , the wrapping is golden but the present is still hidden A surprise for the patient wounded healers healed in each other- ready to heal anew Both of us - asleep in our parallel worlds under the umbrella of ambient lighting A shameless copy of the pure sunlight That emanates from their bodies When they collide on the material Plane .
0
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 9:16 AM UTC
Carcass of an old self
The aconites sing of us in Early January. Sing their first song of candled love. Sing to the time between midnight and noon where coy clouds wake the world and water reflects medallions in its glass. In Early January, snowdrops lark the dormant hedgerows hanging like pearls from their delicate stems. And sweet dew paves the meadows in jewellery. Its cold in Early January. Sometimes the 6B pencil shadings of the sky leak petal-snow which, despite our coats, coat us in silver chill. Early January to me is in the smokey firework dust swirling from the London chimney-stacks. The tired world is still sleeping. Early January is you. Squished in your white blanket while you pour cereal, morning breath still misting the glass on the sill.
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Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
Early January
i only find my solace in half rhymes and soft narcotics and twice-sung dueled harmonics keep my tongue between my teeth and keep my dagger in its sheath and i guess i should have known not to let my dark be shown cause he only wants the light well i suppose it's only right nothing grows in darkness nothing grows in darkness i can only keep myself contained in tired metaphors and shame i just wanted him to know i could love even his shadow show my hand and call my bluff let the edges keep their rough tell me every single story spitting off each promontory nothing grows in darkness nothing grows in darkness i'm told that every great disaster is building up my character i'm told that every great destruction paves the way for new construction but i was never one for artifice i'm a bare ***** tree as stark as this i thought you were my home but you were termites leave me alone and go search for your spotlights nothing grows in darkness nothing grows in darkness
0
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
renovations
There's a shallow darkness over our minds That paves the lights like sheer blinds for the quench of love in our broken souls There's a fear seeping deep inside our veins That's often too scared to care too scarred to share Sometimes all we need is someone to pull us out from the past And a little time to fill up the spaces in our minds. ~mehek
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May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 5:17 AM UTC
I. Couldn't . Name . It
*The morning face Aglow with warmth Darkness paves way To a bright new day Gossips of the night Under the starry world Without inhibitions Wanton hearts danced Forayed into darkness To steal into the secrets Unwrapped souls Heartening pleasures Two reckless souls Lay there, waiting for new day To renew the night’s pact Kissing the morning face Quivering lips welcome Beautiful dreams come alive The crimson blush Reminds of a fervent appeal Another day Shall slip into the night As will two souls cusp Yearning for a union Till, another day beckons*
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Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
Without Inhibitions
on bare feet treading light footprints following the beat of the rush from ocean waves to adopt seashells as she paves a path sideways towards the sea dipping her feet letting things be letting wind blow her hair messy she gives out and finally smiles as if there is no tomorrow
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Oct 30, 2024
Oct 30, 2024 at 8:27 AM UTC
ocean
She is a Princess Daughter of the most High She's the type of Queen That knows her crown Isn't in her head but in her soul She's made a whole I call her Royal Highness And she camouflage with her shiness Her beauty melts my heart Then i feel butterflies in my Stomach Her beauty lies under The shadow of a Castle Therefore she's unassailable Indescribable And untouchable She walk like a lioness Sneaking on it's prey I call it walk on Shells Don't talk is covered with Pearls Her pretty smile brightens the day And for the King, it paves a way All of these, Because She is a Divine Queen
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Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 4:21 AM UTC
Divine Queen