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"peering" poems
Man                                           Woman He Smiles Curiously                        She Blushes Coyly He Approaches      Asks her name      She shares it     Asks the Same Mr Right                              Love at First Sight                    Her Smile is a Delight "Meet for Drinks?"                            hmmmmmm                              "Pick me up at 8?" He knocks - 1 rose.                                vase, water                        Her perfume - sweeter. Politely, opens car door for her                                The night keeps getting better At the restaurant                                                      She sips her red wine Conversation so easy                    She feels she's known him forever "Would you like to dance?                "I don't dance very well." "Indulge me, just want u in my arms."    ~Just a smile~ One hand at her waist, one on her back. They become one, all others disappear. Peering into each other's eyes. No words are needed. Their bodies say it. © 2012
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Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 11:07 PM UTC
Falling in Love
Tell me I'm not this. The blue began to flood inside a room once painted black. Tell me I don't see this. The orb of morning peering its start right to my eyelids that can't even close. Tell me I don't hear this. Birds chirping for sunrise, playing lightly as my lullaby. Tell me I'm dreaming. My leg still twitches, seven in the morning, because I'm afraid I'll lose myself before dawn. Shedding emotion in fast waves of flight, tell me I didn't run through time, making stars out of daylight. Orange in the sky, and not from shy headlights in insomniac cars. Yellow, making its fellow opening for my uncomforted sleep, not a nightlight like before, no. Tell me I'm not this.
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Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 10:19 AM UTC
Insomniac Headlights
here is little Effie’s head whose brains are made of gingerbread when the judgment day comes God will find six crumbs stooping by the coffinlid waiting for something to rise as the other somethings did— you imagine His surprise bellowing through the general noise Where is Effie who was dead? —to God in a tiny voice, i am may the first crumb said whereupon its fellow five crumbs chuckled as if they were alive and number two took up the song, might i’m called and did no wrong cried the third crumb,i am should and this is my little sister could with our big brother who is would don’t punish us for we were good; and the last crumb with some shame whispered unto God,my name is must and with the others i’ve been Effie who isn’t alive just imagine it I say God amid a monstrous din watch your step and follow me stooping by Effie’s little, in (want a match or can you see?) which the six subjunctive crumbs twitch like mutilated thumbs: picture His peering biggest whey coloured face on which a frown puzzles, but I know the way— (nervously Whose eyes approve the blessed while His ears are crammed with the strenuous music of the innumerable capering ****** —staring wildly up and down the here we are now judgment day cross the threshold have no dread lift the sheet back in this way. here is little Effie’s head whose brains are made of gingerbread
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Here Is Little Effie’s Head
I sit at the bar of life Looking forward to happy hour Another beer A solicited romance Something Even a bowl of peanuts that never came How I yearn for conversation Warmth I can only dream Seated a few chairs away Is a rainbow haired hillbilly Backpacking possums Gees Can you imagine He said he lives under The outskirts of ****** land He smiles I smile I catch a bee from behind As the bartendress walk by My eyes look at her behind And catch honey My claim to fame Oh how I wish I were a bee And had somebody Like the rainbow haired hillbilly That tends under the outskirts of ****** land I look over at him He's always smiling Maybe it has something to do With playing a fiddle and finding music, finding new paths Goats and milk And backpacking possums Or maybe its sublime Oh, how I wish I could smile Feel warmth Sunshine And look into her peering eyes Logan Robertson 7/16/18
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Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 12:16 AM UTC
He Sits Alone At the Bar of Life
Aah! it was you  who did not discover: Still love for you I have  like a lover. I kept on peering you  like i always peered And continued to do so till u disappeared. But you did not turn around to see me Just like the one who leaves And i kept on believing , that you'll see, Like the one who believes
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Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 4:21 AM UTC
STILL LOVE FOR YOU, I HAVE LIKE A LOVER
This is me...           Seeking refuge           under a tree,           As the wind released           it's pensive sigh.           Leaves sapped dry           were then set free.           Shades of yellow           took to the air in an           attempt to fly.           This is me... Peering through jaundiced eyes. Laying still in a torrent of ochre. As leaves fall from lowered skies, Drenching and submerging me in a sea of scattered amber. This is me...           Captivated by this           spectacular phenom.          Flavescent dance           governed by           wind and gravity.          This is the dream...           Too long held for ransom           By the relentless           grasp of reality.          This is me... Awaiting such time to arise and run. In my heap, my safe haven, my fortress of yellow. Till the inevitable set of the orange sun Only then... myself to the moon I would again show.
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Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
Spectrum Yellow
My little deer Is that you peeking between the trees peering at the stag but your heart's still not at ease ... time ago a short time a stray cupid's arrow shot the night air splitting your spirit in two frightened you took off from the foreboding hiding in a lea there was sun and cloudless skies but not really as your insides raged in a storm in a hourglass with sand pebbles fighting to heal for the best now as you peer between the trees of salvation do you hear birds singing near a brook ... songs sung so beautiful in concerto with the chipmunks, ***** crickets then, as you take that step forward so lion hearted peering between those branches of redemption my little deer are there rays of sunshine peeking back LR-4/23/17
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Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
My Little Deer
today i couldn;t hold it in any longer i said my piece it didn't go well Now I'm facing the Chill i knew would arrive like ice on fire Frozen Lump in throat Peering over the abyss Shattering All illusion of Peace Or  security Or civility Like A dam giving way But instead of bursting forth this water is jagged ice. For now, Suspended in descent we are in Deep Freeze
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Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
DEEP FREEZE
*The chill in the frigid night air casts tremors of lingering shadows upon an ancient windowsill where a liquescent candle’s glow dims. Peering into shattered mirrors’ silver hued jagged edges that no longer reflect counterfeit images a nascent paradigm unfurls in the wind. Terrifying diminutive steps are taken in directions au courant enabled by years of refinement in torrid near incessant fires. An excrescence of wisdom has broken the weathered mold allowing a senescent wisdom to shimmer a phosphorescent glow. The venerable map leading to this transcendent destination is not read but perceived through intuition’s faint whisperings. ©2015 janetaylor
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Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC
whispers
Cup your palms around that candle dear lazy Spells to cast to the wombs keep our ghosts outside peering into tent ***** yellowing irises and stamens strangely swaying but nonsense Butte no out there they stalk you dear lazy
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Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
Dear Lazy
love its a beautiful thing really, its brutal, its strong it so deep, and so heartwarming, and at the same time, it makes me want to cry, scream pound my bed, punch the white cement wall until my knuckles are ****** raw and the wall has a display of reds. it makes me want to break an elegant expensive vase, and crush it in my hand. its destructive, desired, dangerous, and yet i want to laugh i want to sing and dance! dance to oh what a night dance with my yellow watercolored pillow case, with my favorite pillow stuffed inside oh, love is so peculiar isn’t it? its spectacular, and its like standing in the middle of a ballroom where dresses and suit ties of different hues reflect the chandelier light hanging from the ceiling, an array of rainbows cast on the walls. and yet, theres an emptiness… one I’m afraid i cannot fill, and rely on you to. its like standing in an ocean of chaos, of excitement and watching it from afar at the same time. i can see myself swimming with the sharks, yet i am a bystander as the thread of my life is strung tautly, i watch myself bleed, gruesomely torn to pieces i watch as the water darkens from spilt wine, the wine that was once salty becomes sickly sweet around me but i continue watching myself become bones stuck in their teeth. its like being in an aquarium, encased in water, and yet, still not a part of it, a distance, yet, a proximity i watch myself drown through the looking glass, unable to help. the sign says don’t tap the glass, but i pound and pound. I am the only one watching myself slowly slow, and slowly stop. stop breathing, stop fighting. love is holding your breath, being cautious, yet careless. Its diving recklessly, unsure whether to be sober, or drunk, and being both. its like seeing myself on a high diving board, the water beneath is so deep, it seems to never start, and never end at the same time. I can see myself, on the edge peering over, scared to take a leap of faith, yet relived i can still feel the sharp breaths, nervous stomach, because it means i can still feel, i am still capable of human emotions i thought had left me long ago, before you.
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Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
What is Love?
love its a beautiful thing really, its brutal, its strong it so deep, and so heartwarming, and at the same time, it makes me want to cry, scream pound my bed, punch the white cement wall until my knuckles are ****** raw and the wall has a display of reds. it makes me want to break an elegant expensive vase, and crush it in my hand. its destructive, desired, dangerous, and yet i want to laugh i want to sing and dance! dance to oh what a night dance with my yellow watercolored pillow case, with my favorite pillow stuffed inside oh, love is so peculiar isn’t it? its spectacular, and its like standing in the middle of a ballroom where dresses and suit ties of different hues reflect the chandelier light hanging from the ceiling, an array of rainbows cast on the walls. and yet, theres an emptiness… one I’m afraid i cannot fill, and rely on you to. its like standing in an ocean of chaos, of excitement and watching it from afar at the same time. i can see myself swimming with the sharks, yet i am a bystander as the thread of my life is strung tautly, i watch myself bleed, gruesomely torn to pieces i watch as the water darkens from spilt wine, the wine that was once salty becomes sickly sweet around me but i continue watching myself become bones stuck in their teeth. its like being in an aquarium, encased in water, and yet, still not a part of it, a distance, yet, a proximity i watch myself drown through the looking glass, unable to help. the sign says don’t tap the glass, but i pound and pound. I am the only one watching myself slowly slow, and slowly stop. stop breathing, stop fighting. love is holding your breath, being cautious, yet careless. Its diving recklessly, unsure whether to be sober, or drunk, and being both. its like seeing myself on a high diving board, the water beneath is so deep, it seems to never start, and never end at the same time. I can see myself, on the edge peering over, scared to take a leap of faith, yet relived i can still feel the sharp breaths, nervous stomach, because it means i can still feel, i am still capable of human emotions i thought had left me long ago, before you.
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Cast out were his alien dreams; Aspiring and confident he did leave. Fiery ground of thunder burnt his home; As he alone cast out for that void, perceived through his singular glass dome. Adventure had caught him lonely But peering out from his craft his pupils did glow! Circling fiery molecules hovering to and fro! How could he now transmit and show Reflection of scale small and macro! Fumbling, his fingers did try To articulate the machines Imprinted of his native language. "Calling Cpt. Crow!" Sending the signal the results did show A break in the wire and a fuse did blow. Barricading that soul far and deep, A minuscule solar flare Emanating a glow! And from that earth looked upward team and crew Saw idle in that gigantic void a singular golden hue Distant but true was the connection they all knew.
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Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
Astronaut
I hug the first, Enamoured by her beauty. Such kind eyes... Peering carelessly back at me. She reaches out, To meet my embrace. *"You'll always be the first, Who had my heart set in place."* I say to the second, *"You are my life. One day you'd build, The right castle for a wife."* *"Remember me always, For you this path I have paved. I'd shower upon you, All the love that I have saved."* Then finally to the third, The last of all gifts. Most adorable of sprites, Source of my infinite lifts. *"For you I haven't done much, Only all that I could afford. But insert me in your forever... As the only you ever would've adored..."*
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Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
3
Your eyes shine intensely So intense The midday sun seems so dark They possess This intense luminescence They tease me like a planet That longs to be explored I would telescope them As an astronomer admires the night sky Peering into them Looking to traverse through your mind Get lost within Reveling in the beauty that is such Stumble across the kind magnificence That is your gentle soul
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Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:27 AM UTC
Your Eyes. My Wonderland
I can tell by the way you look at me, one eyebrow cocked upward while examining my so called perfection. Completely astonished by my beauty, the beauty I don't even see in myself. Peering out of the right corners of your deep brown eyes without tilting your head at even the slightest angle because you don't want me to know you still think about me. But I've noticed you can't look away. You can't look away because that may be the last time you ever see my face. And the thought of that being your last chance to catch a glimpse at my sparkling blue eyes destroys you. You just can't look away, and that's how I know you still love me (even though you wish you didn't).
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Jul 5, 2023
Jul 5, 2023 at 12:18 AM UTC
February
Oh Coffee Machine! My Coffee Machine! You've finally finished my drink! For every morning you brew me one -I place my mug in the kitchen sink, Every drop of your goodness; topped with whip cream; finished just in time, The things you make, lattes, coffee, are absolutely divine, Just as I was about to fill and pour the once empty mug, almost as empty as i'm feeling; there's still that leftover bit of hope, But wait, Can it be? My old trustee machine? It mustn't be the end of my coffee machine peering near, It can't be the end of my morning routine, For all I hear are crashes; unfamiliar to my ear. My Coffee Machine! Dear Coffee Machine, The hiss of steamed milk, cream and roasted coffee beans, The wisps of steam lingering in the air as you make my coffee, Dripping ever so slowly in my cup -Coffee that's dark, bitter and black as night, Early in the morning before breakfast; before I take a bite, This half-full cup of coffee won't do me good for the day, Without you I think that the morning skies themselves will be grey, But wait, My dear coffee machine! I keep pressing the button clear It can't be the end of my morning routine, For all I hear are crashes; unfamiliar to my ear. Waking up with no cup of coffee, ask not what the future may bring, Without the energy, I don't know whether sorrow shall reign or happiness ring, Everyday I now wake to breathe deeply the aroma of life's bel-fry, For if I ever smell the subtle hint of coffee in the air, I let out a sigh. Oh Coffee Machine! Dear Coffee Machine, You've been here for so many years, It can't be the end of my morning routine, For all I hear are crashes; unfamiliar to my ear.
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Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
“Oh Coffee Machine! My Coffee Machine!”
Oh Coffee Machine! My Coffee Machine! You've finally finished my drink! For every morning you brew me one -I place my mug in the kitchen sink, Every drop of your goodness; topped with whip cream; finished just in time, The things you make, lattes, coffee, are absolutely divine, Just as I was about to fill and pour the once empty mug, almost as empty as i'm feeling; there's still that leftover bit of hope, But wait, Can it be? My old trustee machine? It mustn't be the end of my coffee machine peering near, It can't be the end of my morning routine, For all I hear are crashes; unfamiliar to my ear. My Coffee Machine! Dear Coffee Machine, The hiss of steamed milk, cream and roasted coffee beans, The wisps of steam lingering in the air as you make my coffee, Dripping ever so slowly in my cup -Coffee that's dark, bitter and black as night, Early in the morning before breakfast; before I take a bite, This half-full cup of coffee won't do me good for the day, Without you I think that the morning skies themselves will be grey, But wait, My dear coffee machine! I keep pressing the button clear It can't be the end of my morning routine, For all I hear are crashes; unfamiliar to my ear. Waking up with no cup of coffee, ask not what the future may bring, Without the energy, I don't know whether sorrow shall reign or happiness ring, Everyday I now wake to breathe deeply the aroma of life's bel-fry, For if I ever smell the subtle hint of coffee in the air, I let out a sigh. Oh Coffee Machine! Dear Coffee Machine, You've been here for so many years, It can't be the end of my morning routine, For all I hear are crashes; unfamiliar to my ear.
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I think I'm the remainder left over; A complex number in an equation you found to solve. You treat me like a stranger: holding me through the pain of peering in at you from the outside where it's cold.
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Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
Stranger
Her shoes untouched unmoved lay carelessly in the middle of her room the strings still tied forever waiting to be undone and redone tightly around dainty feet. a wet shiny black nose rest atop the left shoe. peering through the wide door crack he raises his golden head paint splattered with gray making eye contact with a sorrowful wine, questioning. a moment. the somber shake of the head a whimper as he settles his snout back on the left shoe waiting…
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Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC
Her Shoes
Trampling through their city paths, Hunting ground, mean street. They perch aloft towers of oak; Dripping with prestige vine, wrapped With silk leaves, soft to touch And hard to climb. The Sun sets over the seven lakes Of spring kissed, freshly mown Fields of scorn blessed by Solitudal and beady eyes. Gates keeping out the world that Wishes them harm. They sit so high peering down, At our destitution, our self-prohetised Might! And think: “Pfft you all wish you could fly
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Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
Streets of Gold
"Handsome fellow," She said. Blue-black, Eyes of knowing, cocked Head, he is peering At her with certainty. "Caw!" His answer of love.
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Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
Crow
By walking between certain trees, Sometimes, one has an odd feeling, An unusual tingling sensation, Not scary, but mostly appealing. Katalyn passed between two elms, And entered into ancient realms. Excitement prickled Katalyn’s skin, Trees here were wide and tall, Then from a sun-splashed clearing, There came a strange animal call. Creeping closely; peering round a tree, Katalyn saw unicorns, roaming free. Approaching slowly, heart beating fast, Katalyn could not help but smile, As the unicorns gathered round, What grace, such poise, cool style. Not thinking, Katalyn touched a wing, There came a whoosh . . . so dizzying. Without knowing, how or why, Katalyn soared above the trees, Holding a slender unicorn neck, Laughter escaping on the breeze. They dropped into a sudden glide, With a thrilling rush: what a ride! They winged across grassy plains, Between mountains capped with snow, Katalyn neither knew nor recognised, The wild land, passing by, below. Another world; another dimension, Kept secret by; magical intention. Then Katalyn was suddenly walking, Back where the adventure began, Passing between two old elms, Returned to the world of man. Now feeling as happy, as you please, Knowing unicorns lived, beyond the trees. © Paul M Chafer 2014
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Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
Unicorn Paradise
Gazing within, I can see the warm light Where I sit, the rain and cold bite. A big coat fits but doesn’t satisfy, On a familiar portal - my eyes lie. Cars roar by, water flies in air The sky pours sideways, all over my hair. Sitting outside, peering in, eyes wide - I view my long-lost family inside. I jealously watch their fun And silently pray for the sun. Raindrops on glass in front of my face, Oh, how I yearn to be back at this place. The faces of my heart wave and invite me back, Grabbing the doorknob, it breaks with a snap. I dearly miss this house, for it is no longer mine, I watch at the window for days at a time.
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Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 12:31 AM UTC
THE WINDOW
~ In the mist of late night solitude,                  from a mislaid plateau,                  with a suitcase full of sparks She observes constellations         reflected as little needy eyes,                         peering down at her They could be midnight directives,        postcards from distant nebula                             suspended in gaffa        "Ne t'enfuis pas..." She exhales Still she wonders:         will her children grow to love           their perfect machines more                                     than they love                   their imperfect mother? ~
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Jun 28, 2023
Jun 28, 2023 at 12:06 PM UTC
She Was in the Field Counting Stars