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"pearled" poems
For years my heart was guarded, protected from the world. But somehow you have disarmed me, opened and unfurled. You’ve taken me, broken and damaged, mishandled and hurled . Yet you see me as delicate and dainty, so precious and pearled. Everything’s not perfect but it sure is beautiful here. Your smile so bright with a voice I just love to hear. Your touch, so gentle I just want to have you near. I love your energy and your presence, you make everyone else disappear. He has captured my trust and that’s something not easily given. He has made all my worries forgotten and all of my heartache is forgiven. His mission was to win my heart and made his goal clear, he was driven. After plenty of chances to earn my trust, I’d finally decided to give in. I feel so loved, so valued, so cared for so protected. He has won me over and I doubt I’ll ever regret it. To a man who truly cares for me and satisfies my every need. For you have saved me from my darkness, and my heart you have freed.
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Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 6:27 PM UTC
Rescued
.                                                               @                                                             @     @                                                         @            @                                                     @                    @                                                  @                            @                                             @     @     @     @     @     @                 america, americultus, americate, dubiously ********** ::: our gold-flecked bodies. blackbirdian danceparty, i'll go. washed-up beach bottles and all our feet amongst them curling time. teens dream in orchid; they wait for stars and dark and los hombres of good dust. they wait on eyes, and on embers, on belly belly. jellyfish flashlight shrine. we eat acid and strawberries and butter in the cemetery, and feed foxes lizards face first :::                 us lost ghouls on school-nights.                 flash tag jazz, and yellow bicycles. ::: that hot eternal light. that candy colored smoke don't smoke; go south on her body. then thoughts form thoughts form action, form twangs all tuned to air. & we, as notes, we notes harp like light to dust. our glistering hormonal thrusts beneath sheath of liquid love. her eyes, with those multi-speckled strands infinitesimally drunk :::                 seed from my ****                 pearled halo: smoke above my head. ::: waves and machines and weekends. filtered by the long **** of existence. boys wait in rooms of hotels for more drugs, and the girls bringing them. like caterpillars on silky thin treadways, with nothing but the flavor of our passions to ignite the way. we exacerbate the boundaries of our intentions. we curl under sheets, bending sheets of light and sound. we flakey emaciated flakes. [sequence suffered time in motion] we                 dirt. it’s what we are; dirt.                 we are druggernauts, tasting ourselves along the iridescent brim. ::: we crawl up cross-glowing hillsides toward portals and faraway bleep-blorps of hot god-head calibration. we sticky-crackle go burn. [nature puzzles] the brain shifts back; twenty-one grams they say the soul weighs. they say things. cherry blossom tree tips in the dark. tele-portal surfing with an intergalactic pizza priest, and his satchel of secret sauce. he heaves in the corner; rebirth :::                 tendrils pulled tight, everybody **** chung…
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
othello wolf
.                                                               @                                                             @     @                                                         @            @                                                     @                    @                                                  @                            @                                             @     @     @     @     @     @                 america, americultus, americate, dubiously ********** ::: our gold-flecked bodies. blackbirdian danceparty, i'll go. washed-up beach bottles and all our feet amongst them curling time. teens dream in orchid; they wait for stars and dark and los hombres of good dust. they wait on eyes, and on embers, on belly belly. jellyfish flashlight shrine. we eat acid and strawberries and butter in the cemetery, and feed foxes lizards face first :::                 us lost ghouls on school-nights.                 flash tag jazz, and yellow bicycles. ::: that hot eternal light. that candy colored smoke don't smoke; go south on her body. then thoughts form thoughts form action, form twangs all tuned to air. & we, as notes, we notes harp like light to dust. our glistering hormonal thrusts beneath sheath of liquid love. her eyes, with those multi-speckled strands infinitesimally drunk :::                 seed from my ****                 pearled halo: smoke above my head. ::: waves and machines and weekends. filtered by the long **** of existence. boys wait in rooms of hotels for more drugs, and the girls bringing them. like caterpillars on silky thin treadways, with nothing but the flavor of our passions to ignite the way. we exacerbate the boundaries of our intentions. we curl under sheets, bending sheets of light and sound. we flakey emaciated flakes. [sequence suffered time in motion] we                 dirt. it’s what we are; dirt.                 we are druggernauts, tasting ourselves along the iridescent brim. ::: we crawl up cross-glowing hillsides toward portals and faraway bleep-blorps of hot god-head calibration. we sticky-crackle go burn. [nature puzzles] the brain shifts back; twenty-one grams they say the soul weighs. they say things. cherry blossom tree tips in the dark. tele-portal surfing with an intergalactic pizza priest, and his satchel of secret sauce. he heaves in the corner; rebirth :::                 tendrils pulled tight, everybody **** chung…
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46
In the cowslip pips I lie, Hidden from the buzzing fly, While green grass beneath me lies, Pearled with dew like fishes’ eyes, Here I lie, a clock-o’-clay, Waiting for the time o’ day. While the forest quakes surprise, And the wild wind sobs and sighs, My home rocks as like to fall, On its pillar green and tall; When the pattering rain drives by Clock-o’-clay keeps warm and dry. Day by day and night by night, All the week I hide from sight; In the cowslip pips I lie, In the rain still warm and dry; Day and night and night and day, Red, black-spotted clock-o’-clay. My home shakes in wind and showers, Pale green pillar topped with flowers, Bending at the wild wind’s breath, Till I touch the grass beneath; Here I live, lone clock-o’-clay, Watching for the time of day.
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4k
Clock-O’-Clay
A dream tree, Polly's tree: a thicket of sticks, each speckled twig ending in a thin-paned leaf unlike any other on it or in a ghost flower flat as paper and of a color vaporish as frost-breath, more finical than any silk fan the Chinese ladies use to stir robin's egg air. The silver- haired seed of the milkweed comes to roost there, frail as the halo rayed round a candle flame, a will-o'-the-wisp nimbus, or puff of cloud-stuff, tipping her queer candelabrum. Palely lit by snuff-ruffed dandelions, white daisy wheels and a tiger faced ***** it glows. O it's no family tree, Polly's tree, nor a tree of heaven, though it marry quartz-flake, feather and rose. It sprang from her pillow whole as a cobweb ribbed like a hand, a dream tree. Polly's tree wears a valentine arc of tear-pearled bleeding hearts on its sleeve and, crowning it, one blue larkspur star.
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3.5k
Polly's Tree
The year’s at the spring, And day’s at the morn; Morning’s at seven; The hill-side’s dew-pearled; The lark’s on the wing; The snail’s on the thorn; God’s in his Heaven— All’s right with the world!
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3.4k
The Year’s At The Spring
I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way, Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring, And gentle odours led my steps astray, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the ***** of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream. There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets— Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth— Its mother’s face with Heaven’s collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate’s voice, it hears. And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may, And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold. And nearer to the river’s trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white, And starry river buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues, which in their natural bowers Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay, I hastened to the spot whence I had come, That I might there present it!—Oh! to whom?
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3.3k
The Question
I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way, Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring, And gentle odours led my steps astray, Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling Its green arms round the ***** of the stream, But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream. There grew pied wind-flowers and violets, Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth, The constellated flower that never sets; Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets— Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth— Its mother’s face with Heaven’s collected tears, When the low wind, its playmate’s voice, it hears. And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine, Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may, And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day; And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray; And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold, Fairer than any wakened eyes behold. And nearer to the river’s trembling edge There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white, And starry river buds among the sedge, And floating water-lilies, broad and bright, Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge With moonlight beams of their own watery light; And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen. Methought that of these visionary flowers I made a nosegay, bound in such a way That the same hues, which in their natural bowers Were mingled or opposed, the like array Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay, I hastened to the spot whence I had come, That I might there present it!—Oh! to whom?
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40
The colorful tears of youth are the warmest, The most lonely in a world you don't know, Because you haven't been here for the longest Time since birth, step by step we all did grow. We're always struck by our uncertain stars, While still opening up, trying to find The answers of this life, with smiles and scars, Praying in different ways they stay aligned. O God, forgive the flowers of this world! We are so young, and thus so flawed, Forgive our faults; our cheeks are pearled, While we're always by Your creation awed. Let us all strive our best to reach our goal, Before we're one day called back with our soul.
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Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 6:39 PM UTC
Written after hearing the death of Juice Wrld
All summer we moved in a villa brimful of echos, Cool as the pearled interior of a conch. Bells, hooves, of the high-stipping black goats woke us. Around our bed the baronial furniture Foundered through levels of light seagreen and strange. Not one leaf wrinkled in the clearing air. We dreamed how we were perfect, and we were. Against bare, whitewashed walls, the furniture Anchored itself, griffin-legged and darkly grained. Two of us in a place meant for ten more- Our footsteps multiplied in the shadowy chambers, Our voices fathomed a profounder sound: The walnut banquet table, the twelve chairs Mirrored the intricate gestures of two others. Heavy as a statuary, shapes not ours Performed a dumbshow in the polished wood, That cabinet without windows or doors: He lifts an arm to bring her close, but she Shies from his touch: his is an iron mood. Seeing her freeze, he turns his face away. They poise and grieve as in some old tragedy. Moon-blanched and implacable, he and she Would not be eased, released. Our each example Of temderness dove through their purgatory Like a planet, a stone, swallowed in a great darkness, Leaving no sparky track, setting up no ripple. Nightly we left them in their desert place. Lights out, they dogged us, sleepless and envious: We dreamed their arguments, their stricken voices. We might embrace, but those two never did, Come, so unlike us, to a stiff impasse, Burdened in such a way we seemed the lighter- Ourselves the haunters, and they, flesh and blood; As if, above love's ruinage, we were The heaven those two dreamed of, in despair.
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3.2k
The Other Two
All summer we moved in a villa brimful of echos, Cool as the pearled interior of a conch. Bells, hooves, of the high-stipping black goats woke us. Around our bed the baronial furniture Foundered through levels of light seagreen and strange. Not one leaf wrinkled in the clearing air. We dreamed how we were perfect, and we were. Against bare, whitewashed walls, the furniture Anchored itself, griffin-legged and darkly grained. Two of us in a place meant for ten more- Our footsteps multiplied in the shadowy chambers, Our voices fathomed a profounder sound: The walnut banquet table, the twelve chairs Mirrored the intricate gestures of two others. Heavy as a statuary, shapes not ours Performed a dumbshow in the polished wood, That cabinet without windows or doors: He lifts an arm to bring her close, but she Shies from his touch: his is an iron mood. Seeing her freeze, he turns his face away. They poise and grieve as in some old tragedy. Moon-blanched and implacable, he and she Would not be eased, released. Our each example Of temderness dove through their purgatory Like a planet, a stone, swallowed in a great darkness, Leaving no sparky track, setting up no ripple. Nightly we left them in their desert place. Lights out, they dogged us, sleepless and envious: We dreamed their arguments, their stricken voices. We might embrace, but those two never did, Come, so unlike us, to a stiff impasse, Burdened in such a way we seemed the lighter- Ourselves the haunters, and they, flesh and blood; As if, above love's ruinage, we were The heaven those two dreamed of, in despair.
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35
Your naked fragrance darkens over my skin... Intoxication; A scent of Autumn-eyes Spilling colours upon Willing flesh; A slave to silken smooth, He sways... Dancing beneath jewels of lust, Softly weeping... Soft; The quiver pulse Tangles tender ache, His touch' Skin blushed Breathless, beneath arrhythmia's void, Fire-lips, Tongue bathe the swollen-flower, Licked wicked... Slow; The shades of ever moon Fill her yearn, A dark warmth, Her own heartbeat, Impatiently submissive To his fire-tongue velvet; And throbbing wild The pulse of passion D R I P S... Breathless; His wet of fevered song Smooth, across satin thighs, Parting; Her river's pearled release Cascading... Open mouthed He tastes the rippled, hushed D E S I R E A blushed-pour down Rhythm, bucking hard Against his eager tongue; The unexpected silk of orchids, Lip feed Whispers through her heart skin And Surrender, Quivers, Warm against his mouth..........
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Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 1:55 PM UTC
La reddition des Orchidees { The Orchid's Surrender }
Inside my throat expands under water mountain ranges for miles Sea salt love affairs dance across shell pink lips Telling all of Poseidon's secrets through drift wood bonfires I love you Parts are missing so I gather bits and pieces close Always in need of more cosmic adheisive to keep you here Stalwart and worthy your effigy stands carved of whale bone steel Starry night sky corsets cinching our tied tongues together We once had a name, a place Desires and wishes flooded the air between us Now it's just me constantly rowing against the current While you glide smoothly ahead riding the trough I have storm clouds hidden in my sunshine smiles ****** pearled laughter stifled and worn Too tired to see the nautilus of my thoughts dragging me under
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Apr 14, 2012
Apr 14, 2012 at 9:43 PM UTC
Calypso
’Tween hither and thither we wended our way skipping, dancing through sand dunes, in seascape croquet. While woven in waves watching dolphins at play I first tasted her lips in the ocean’s wild spray. Mystic moonbeams, suffusing clouds’ shimmering sails, unleashed us and whisked us down sensuous trails, soon evoking the trills of untamed nightingales as our passions pervaded green valleys and dales. Being spectres of splendour in wanton sashay we mastered our meaning in love’s matinee – the breezes, in passing, slowed down to survey blazing bodies embraced in youth’s blooming bouquet. With the wind as our wings, till the Never we flew, two gypsies, on junkets through dusk’s residue gently floating like pollen to everywhere new, so eluding pearled teardrops that paint the past blue. Yes, we gamboled and gambled, two waifs led astray, with our shackles afire and anchors aweigh – rising higher and higher, the sun lured our sleigh, teasing time was our temptress, night’n day after day. Having stars in our eyes and all time as our view, we’ve drifted, like dreamers where sprites rendezvous and feasted on laughter and sipped morning dew while rambling forever as one made of two.
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Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 4:07 AM UTC
Ramblers
I Tired the long road ends by a sea wall The engine dies to cries of estuary birds to halyards’ **** and tinge A lake of light set in night’s cloudscape brims over the western marshland to seaward a dense darkness On the ferry’s step ear close to the brown water a part-song sings the ebb tide’s flow II Threading into the marshland a braid of cloud-reflected water of oval sedge and common reed In amongst the brown canes perspective vanishes only by mind’s foreshortening or body’s levitation is there sight beyond the creeping rootstock By the river path a leaf pearled with glazed dew glistening dew grabbing the photographic eye Standing backs to the horizon a sculpted triad of bronzed ancestors watch over the summer rites of music III This ****** field moves clamorously under the feet waiting waiting for the sea’s kiss Proud-coloured the boats here resting poised on railway sleepers beside their tractored guardians How to know which way to turn which view to hold for memory’s stamp this patient sky this slow exhaling sea This foreground flow of white-grey-brown pebbles each sensibly-sized for the hand in the pocket yet substantially-singular on the window’s sill
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Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 4:12 AM UTC
Remembering Britten (part 1)
I sing in drifts of silk sliding rainbows gently against the rub of muscle and warmed hotness pouring the melt so wet in your lingering kiss. Begging nothing, I weep for the lathe of soft sheath pearled to wicked by the stormy thunder you echo thru my valleys. Revered so, I am hungered velvet to your tongued verse, a litany on which you crave my depths; revealed inspiration for your dreams Adored by each caress fingered gently to fury, ravenous hunger fed, I quake with earth-tides enraptured by your soul-kiss
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Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 6:11 PM UTC
Soul Kiss:
She’s a go-getter, A real achiever, Ambition burns her, Dreams filled with fever. Lipstick, red and slick, Ears, gold spins and spirals, Hair, long and beautifully curled, Skin, supple and smoothly pearled. Neck, exposed and proud, Shoulders, open and marbled, Chest, creamed and perfumed, Hips, mini-skirted and revealed. Posterior, raised and inviting, Interior, poised and excited, Exterior, rosy and aroused, Inferior, dirty and discarded. Money showers her at the town table, Attention applauds her in the tabloid papers, Men wine and dine her up and down the land, Silken beds caress her shapely legs and soft hands. Flaunted, Used, Abused, Dreams sold.
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Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
Let Go
I still skip stones across your ocean—your foaming white cut from the butterfly vine flips the beached fish into the definition of liveliness takes to the sun—a pearled pantina of ocean rain connecting my nose and mouth into the rainbow vision of your thin lips mending the the maimed ***** claw this is how I will always think of you my wishing well babe neck-deep in sand the butterfly vine entering your mouth pulling your tongue to say those three words aloud finally, like you mean it like I want it, the ocean tide bathing my ankles
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Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 10:55 AM UTC
I love you
Children, fresh as bib lettuce, Green and tender, Stand before me in my rocking chair, Pearled new teeth, Wisping hair, golden, brown, Embarking up a stair way That I am going down. "Papa, can we go out to play?" I look out the window To see the kind of day Before I say, "Would you like to take a walk?"
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Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 11:26 AM UTC
Ageism
Ooo! Wee! Ya got it on my armpit and hair from my belly, I think you sings it from an egg the push and pull, the truth and dare rain-bead pearled in cloudlight bed was it something I said? Or touched? All my ex liked to talk about is *** and wild intricacies like wow, buddy I'm right here kinda spunky and funny but his receptacle and receptacle-ees aren't that interesting to me
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May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC
ooooweeeee
He knew how to touch me, Brushing me with the bold of his colour, My heart beat hard with unashamed bliss He saw through my 'needy' And my Silken nakedness kissed his eyes through the red of sin... His wet mouthed invitation... Reached out to where the Ley lines of my pulse Meshed in a dance of crimson yearn And opened the depths of primal Desperate to escape... My fingertips elicit the lean lines of faded jeans Brushing a teasing touch, Enticing, the heat Wrapped tightly upon tempting visions of tanned and taut A hard driving machine, Risen high, on waves of energy climbing... He parts my soft lips with his tongue tip Braiding my breath with sensuality Licking each whimper, While I tremble inside the strength of his arms.. Devouring me on the crest of his famine Scorching my hardened buds...... In the ***** lathe of his salacious tongue Passion-branding me his... I find myself Stretched beneath his skin Unveiled, willingly, so Helplessly hypnotised, while He feasts... His mouth devouring my spill of silence...and His teeth graze between my thighs, As I moan Swollen in shades of pink tender... My warmth A pearled tumescence, Blushing inside the brushed exhale of his whispered demands I lay, soft to his touch, Drenched with the ****** of his stain I am flamed and seared in an endless Tsunami In the pour of ache.. His lips play music Against the soft of my throat The lush fragrance of petaled fruit dew Moist, between the rise of his body against mine...
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Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 4:02 AM UTC
Lithe Allure:
*In times of suffocating distance and dread of age, our heroes become toy soldiers and fall stagnant as their minds and bodies turn plastic. Alas, trapped in a thin yet unbreakable steel sphere pearled by the sorrow of past prisoners, I am forced to cringe at the thick, sour stench of sadism and apathy thus tumble down a bottomless path which many innocent were forced down before me.*
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May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
No Place for Justice?
You aren't strong not like you want the world to see you you go beyond the stereotypical break through / pass through / world view   and you come to rest somewhere different entirely. You aren't strong not like you want the world to see you you go beyond the usual cut through / push through / subdue and you come to rest near my heart. You aren't strong not like you want the world to see you you go beyond the typical attend to / be kind to / follow through and you come to rest too close. I'm not strong not like I try to convince the world I go beyond the happy pearled / swirled / twirled and come to rest too far from your heart. We're not strong not like we want the world to see we go beyond the beautiful foresee / palm tree / agree and come to rest near each other. Never quite touching, never quite close, just enough to see you and inspire some prose.
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Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 9:38 AM UTC
Almost, Almost Love
She was such a sweet thing. Barely seventeen, To my barely sixteen. Steam was rising from the blacktop, She was wearing a baby blue tube top With shorts to match. A little on the chubby side, You know I like that, Before I could think to kiss her She kissed me. Like a viper strike she was on me. Fierce and deep. Backed up in an alley, I didn't have to dilly dally with my belt, I left it on the balcony at Scramble's house. She had her shorts down before I could blink. Sunk down...no, she slinked, like my pants that pooled around my ankles Standing I entered, She pulled me in deeper, Leapt up, wrapping her legs around me And I held her up against the wall And I drove my hammer home, Each ****** a moan. Rapidly increasing speed, Infinite fulfillment of need, You can call it greed, The way she took my seed. In that alley we hid and smoked **** My first child was conceived. That day I knew she'd be my wife, Kas came 9 months later, A little pink beauty with crystal blue eyes. I can't disguise the love I have for you, It's true, there were many girls I had had before you, You were the first one to make me wanna stay. I lovd you, This will be true long after the worms have their way with me. I'll be weighting, for them to come mold cerulean seas For the flag to be unfurled, For your face and chest to be pearled, For the end of the world, By your side.
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Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
How I Met Your Mother
They were warriors! They were conquerers! Their innocence was their power Faith in the unseen was their tower They were stiff and brave Facing those dangers grave Fierce, bold, 60 in strength Through the arab's length Against 60 000, wasn't fair competition Victory, Almighty's will is final decision Nothing but death could undo them Mountains would shiver before them Loud majestic slogans filled with sheer belief Their cruel battle wounds would bear relief Extreme loyalty to the mercy of the world The firm faith had their paths all pearled All merciful and kind Brotherhood had them bind (!) Closest of all to their master Clenched tightly to the rope Revived the prestigious chatter Struck the hearts, rays of hope (!!) Courageous, brave and bold One enough to stun the enemy lines Today, sword's in Umer's hold Leave them drying, bottles of wines (!!!) When became, came with eyes the shame Free heartedly gave away dinars in tons For aware were they of secrets of the game Amazed others with their attributes and stunts (!V) Father of quotes, vast oceans of knowledge Came to personal revenge, fell the spear Spent sweat n blood for Truth's ******* Dark halls crippled, when slogans they'd hear __________ Spreaded love, devotion, examples of loyalty No one is superior, turned to ashes royalty Left others impressed by their decorum Transformed the world for good in totality _F.A Teeri
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Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 11:37 AM UTC
'Real Warriors'
A green sea of grass stock and stone Such a carpet  of Spring alone Blossoms wink through chinks of stone A tower once where winds did moan Quiet colored eyes of glass Flowers peak during Mass The hills and glades are green with fragile blades of grass Hillsides dew pearled birds on the wing The time is right for winds to sing Love is best in Spring's dear song We waited patiently all winter long Spring bursts out with delicate color Earth’s return is like no other… Kathleen Colby@2011
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Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 6:46 AM UTC
Spring's Wink
The park is filled with night and fog, The veils are drawn about the world, The drowsy lights along the paths Are dim and pearled. Gold and gleaming are the empty streets, Gold and gleaming the misty lake. The mirrored lights like sunken swords, Glimmer and shake. Oh, is it not enough to be Here with this beauty over me? My throat should ache with praise, and I Should kneel in joy beneath the sky. O beauty, are you not enough? Why am I crying after love With youth, a singing voice, and eyes To take earth’s wonder with surprise? Why have I put off my pride, Why am I unsatisfied,— I, for whom the pensive night Binds her cloudy hair with light,— I, for whom all beauty burns Like incense in a million urns? O beauty, are you not enough? Why am I crying after love?
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1.1k
Spring Night
Lush sweet you sing the beckon touching my lips down Shiver quiet tendrils entwine your ribbon suckling my whispered thought Flush raining your flood bathes valleys unsought yet driving madness Silken lover quicken this ache rapture my dawning arc Pearled....
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Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC
Plea: