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"profusion" poems
Anger, is the steaming red on her face refusal creates in an instance; jealousy is foaming green profusion of colors in motion takes this dance for them to upward and downward turns, or a sudden dissolution--- an intense ****** in unison. Even in darkness he  can see the spasmodic ebbing waves sleep is the banana plantation where night wears translucent green "nobody would see us here" she whispers in his ears, as if they are thieving sex,eyeing the yellow banana she likes, to play with Purple is the psychedelic color smeared on horizon when dreams repeatedly fly down like night bats and happen the way mind designs we don't want to leave the scene of the dream even when we know well that the show for us is now over we just want to hang around like the dog,  in the place it  got a juicy bone. Yellow is the banana song that's heard as wave after wave, by the blind bat squadron that roams with raw aggression, for raids above the plantations Unripe bananas show green fingers to say "NO! we aren't ripe" like coy underage virgins. Then, they ripen, go yellow some even bright red, inviting who is blue here is the sky and those bats who got the bananas still raw green Night decents on the banana land as the white umbrella of sun is snatched by the dark maiden. Black is the bat's wing extending and folding like lust, umbrella and the like. He finds her shivering fingers like a serpent, on the banana trunk slithering down, as he dreams bats, banana, blue sky and she slithering over him.
0
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 5:50 AM UTC
k-balachandran
Bats, Banana, Blue sky
Anger, is the steaming red on her face refusal creates in an instance; jealousy is foaming green profusion of colors in motion takes this dance for them to upward and downward turns, or a sudden dissolution--- an intense ****** in unison. Even in darkness he  can see the spasmodic ebbing waves sleep is the banana plantation where night wears translucent green "nobody would see us here" she whispers in his ears, as if they are thieving sex,eyeing the yellow banana she likes, to play with Purple is the psychedelic color smeared on horizon when dreams repeatedly fly down like night bats and happen the way mind designs we don't want to leave the scene of the dream even when we know well that the show for us is now over we just want to hang around like the dog,  in the place it  got a juicy bone. Yellow is the banana song that's heard as wave after wave, by the blind bat squadron that roams with raw aggression, for raids above the plantations Unripe bananas show green fingers to say "NO! we aren't ripe" like coy underage virgins. Then, they ripen, go yellow some even bright red, inviting who is blue here is the sky and those bats who got the bananas still raw green Night decents on the banana land as the white umbrella of sun is snatched by the dark maiden. Black is the bat's wing extending and folding like lust, umbrella and the like. He finds her shivering fingers like a serpent, on the banana trunk slithering down, as he dreams bats, banana, blue sky and she slithering over him.
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49
on a sea strand, have you watched empty shells mercilessly tossed from sea to shore and from shore to sea?        often I shrink and reduce to such a shell, with jagged and broken edges colorless and empty among many a debris cast on the shore, i lie half buried under the sand waiting for some mighty wave to wash me away all the way to the sea how tedious is my voyage shuttling from him to her and from her to him unable to openly confess who weighs more on the balance of preference through how many alleys and by ways I have wandered, questioning my identity! am I a puffer fish, being toxic the fisher men have discarded? a jarring note in a discordant symphony? I wonder....! I often ask myself! destined to grow in mercurial climes, planted in arid shallow soil with the tap root trimmed, branches pruned, growth denied, I, a stunted bonsai! still I dream to be a towering tree, that in profusion gives fruits and shade! a ****** aspiring to be a Goliath a hollow reed, longing at once to be the singer and the song!
0
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
valsa-george
Bonsai
on a sea strand, have you watched empty shells mercilessly tossed from sea to shore and from shore to sea?        often I shrink and reduce to such a shell, with jagged and broken edges colorless and empty among many a debris cast on the shore, i lie half buried under the sand waiting for some mighty wave to wash me away all the way to the sea how tedious is my voyage shuttling from him to her and from her to him unable to openly confess who weighs more on the balance of preference through how many alleys and by ways I have wandered, questioning my identity! am I a puffer fish, being toxic the fisher men have discarded? a jarring note in a discordant symphony? I wonder....! I often ask myself! destined to grow in mercurial climes, planted in arid shallow soil with the tap root trimmed, branches pruned, growth denied, I, a stunted bonsai! still I dream to be a towering tree, that in profusion gives fruits and shade! a ****** aspiring to be a Goliath a hollow reed, longing at once to be the singer and the song!
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36
She had hung it up from the mantelpiece in her bedroom, so when he entered the room there it was. It was suddenly lovely and he immediately imagined her body flowing into it, flowing from it. Standing close to the dress he brought his fingers to the fabric, touched gently, stroking then, as though it already held her form and substance.   Stepping past thoughts of her that so stirred his body he entered the pattern of the dress. It was a meadow in southern Ontario. July, when already the sun had bleached the profusion of grasses: water chestnut and papyrus sedge. He had stepped from the untidy veranda, past the pond, and down the rough track between the fields unmown, uncut, left fallow. As he entered the breaks of woodland between these swathes of grassland, deciduous leaves, dry and brittle from the summer's heat, were strewn on the path, and between the trees clumps of bramble bushes with berries of red and blue, black and purple.   There was no wind. The only sounds an underlay of crickets, his footfall, and the sharp mournful cries of geese on the now distant pond.   He saw her like an apparition standing motionless at the woodland’s  boundary; her dress at one with all that surrounded her. When he came close and placed his hand on her shoulder he could smell the sweet dry earth mingling with her body's sweat, a hint of her *** as he placed his cheek against the shower of printed pollen amongst the leaves on her back.   Back in the late afternoon bedroom he heard her move about in the kitchen, and the spell broken, he turned away and went downstairs.   Several days later, as they prepared for bed, she slipped the dress on. As she stood in the lamplight smoothing it against her flanks, adjusting its fall across her ******* he felt himself faint that such a thing of beauty could be a joy forever . . . and beyond.
0
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 4:55 AM UTC
nigel-morgan
Dress
She had hung it up from the mantelpiece in her bedroom, so when he entered the room there it was. It was suddenly lovely and he immediately imagined her body flowing into it, flowing from it. Standing close to the dress he brought his fingers to the fabric, touched gently, stroking then, as though it already held her form and substance.   Stepping past thoughts of her that so stirred his body he entered the pattern of the dress. It was a meadow in southern Ontario. July, when already the sun had bleached the profusion of grasses: water chestnut and papyrus sedge. He had stepped from the untidy veranda, past the pond, and down the rough track between the fields unmown, uncut, left fallow. As he entered the breaks of woodland between these swathes of grassland, deciduous leaves, dry and brittle from the summer's heat, were strewn on the path, and between the trees clumps of bramble bushes with berries of red and blue, black and purple.   There was no wind. The only sounds an underlay of crickets, his footfall, and the sharp mournful cries of geese on the now distant pond.   He saw her like an apparition standing motionless at the woodland’s  boundary; her dress at one with all that surrounded her. When he came close and placed his hand on her shoulder he could smell the sweet dry earth mingling with her body's sweat, a hint of her *** as he placed his cheek against the shower of printed pollen amongst the leaves on her back.   Back in the late afternoon bedroom he heard her move about in the kitchen, and the spell broken, he turned away and went downstairs.   Several days later, as they prepared for bed, she slipped the dress on. As she stood in the lamplight smoothing it against her flanks, adjusting its fall across her ******* he felt himself faint that such a thing of beauty could be a joy forever . . . and beyond.
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6
*A girl wearing a flowing gown, on which yellow butterflies are in profusion sows seeds of happy confusion inadvertently in midtown. The day on its upward swing pauses a moment,  catching my breath I jump on, with her, we fly up the girl smiling to herself allowed me to arrest herself inside me for keeps, without persuasion*
0
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 8:23 AM UTC
k-balachandran
A wave of yellow, a weave of love
*A girl wearing a flowing gown, on which yellow butterflies are in profusion sows seeds of happy confusion inadvertently in midtown. The day on its upward swing pauses a moment,  catching my breath I jump on, with her, we fly up the girl smiling to herself allowed me to arrest herself inside me for keeps, without persuasion*
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10
1. Eyes, eager fish, in deep Himalayan blue, splash and swim the ultramarine sky of the mind, gets color coordinated, in resonance wind from across the ranges, incessantly chant  guttural "Öm" gently spreads waves, that on ears, vibrate as music,divine our feet get liberated from mind's control,  the trek becomes us. 2. Eyes now, turn swifts, fly to the valley extending to horizon, teeming with flowers of every hue, profusion of orchids, rolling white clouds above,create *tantric patterns of grace, swirls, swoops,scoops, somersaults,the trek goes on. 3. Melting ice, fits well on the conical brown mountain tops, a white bodice, perfect cover for her lovely peaks, angular mounts gleam in the limitless avalanche of light, an impulse for benediction is palpable. 4. Simple folks of village, on the way side in flowing colorful dresses ***** tall poles festoons of bright colors, joyous prayer flags   flutter in wind proclaims festive spirit, they vigorously wave. 5. Now heart overwhelms, sings the paeans of a sky that changes it's face from blue to white and sometimes, a hue so bleak, deep gloom, on red brown earth, sun light prances around. 6. The grass bed then transforms quick, mind drinks the dense benediction peace brings that coils inside the soft blue waves, beating within and out 7. Himalayan blue has taken us in to it's embrace bird songs ring along the path of ancient sages, who went in to the forest abode to contemplate, never returned, became one with the hum of cosmos, they walk within us.
0
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 6:05 AM UTC
k-balachandran
Himalayan blue
1. Eyes, eager fish, in deep Himalayan blue, splash and swim the ultramarine sky of the mind, gets color coordinated, in resonance wind from across the ranges, incessantly chant  guttural "Öm" gently spreads waves, that on ears, vibrate as music,divine our feet get liberated from mind's control,  the trek becomes us. 2. Eyes now, turn swifts, fly to the valley extending to horizon, teeming with flowers of every hue, profusion of orchids, rolling white clouds above,create *tantric patterns of grace, swirls, swoops,scoops, somersaults,the trek goes on. 3. Melting ice, fits well on the conical brown mountain tops, a white bodice, perfect cover for her lovely peaks, angular mounts gleam in the limitless avalanche of light, an impulse for benediction is palpable. 4. Simple folks of village, on the way side in flowing colorful dresses ***** tall poles festoons of bright colors, joyous prayer flags   flutter in wind proclaims festive spirit, they vigorously wave. 5. Now heart overwhelms, sings the paeans of a sky that changes it's face from blue to white and sometimes, a hue so bleak, deep gloom, on red brown earth, sun light prances around. 6. The grass bed then transforms quick, mind drinks the dense benediction peace brings that coils inside the soft blue waves, beating within and out 7. Himalayan blue has taken us in to it's embrace bird songs ring along the path of ancient sages, who went in to the forest abode to contemplate, never returned, became one with the hum of cosmos, they walk within us.
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35
i remember gettin' kinkykinky in the backseat while your friend drives illumined shoulderblades in the dimmers your step daddy doesn't have much say in us running away since you're 18 your mommy never loved me and how i don't normally fit in things told me you'd be going to school in Kirtland, but i'm missing out on how thick you're getting for the waving tiers of succulence belting in your stomach profusion of feelings confusing your tongue
0
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC
lauraaaaa
french kiss
i remember gettin' kinkykinky in the backseat while your friend drives illumined shoulderblades in the dimmers your step daddy doesn't have much say in us running away since you're 18 your mommy never loved me and how i don't normally fit in things told me you'd be going to school in Kirtland, but i'm missing out on how thick you're getting for the waving tiers of succulence belting in your stomach profusion of feelings confusing your tongue
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14
Stealing away from the noise and glare I paced the aisles of an ancient library Being worn and tired, indisposed to read I sat in a corner, lost in half reverie Around me were books stacked end on end In safely locked glass and wooden shelves And sectioned into different genres Fiction, non- fiction, verse et al, in thinly layered leaves I felt lost in this vast continent of erudite friends Poet, scholar, philosopher and sage, each sat quiet But those silent souls seemed to crave for human touch Waiting to serve anytime learning’s lovesome diet Closely sheltered from the tumult of the world The place, though serene had an eerie air And books like so many beauties in a harem Were kept away in seclusion just to admire The lifeless air and the long deserted look Mildly disturbed my inner calm Couldn’t digest man’s total disregard of books Which for long, to many a lonely soul, served as balm Sitting amid those gallant souls I thought over the relentless efforts of sage like men Who in the stillness of the night, in their cloistured cells Plunged into research and meditative reflection What knowledge is garnered in these tomes! What all charms, encased in these pages! To what magic lands they can carry us Sharing with us the accumulated wisdom of ages With the profusion of electronic gadgets And information, readily available by a finger hit Books no more are given a venerable treat And fated to be stashed away in corners unlit Heavy with the time tested wisdom of the wise They sit huddled together in damp corners Longing to get a little human warmth But sadly neglected like rusted burners After an hour’s enervating reprieve While I was leaving that dumb world In my ears, fell a faint sound Of the agonizing cry of the Printed Word!
0
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 8:58 AM UTC
valsa-george
An Agonizing Cry
Stealing away from the noise and glare I paced the aisles of an ancient library Being worn and tired, indisposed to read I sat in a corner, lost in half reverie Around me were books stacked end on end In safely locked glass and wooden shelves And sectioned into different genres Fiction, non- fiction, verse et al, in thinly layered leaves I felt lost in this vast continent of erudite friends Poet, scholar, philosopher and sage, each sat quiet But those silent souls seemed to crave for human touch Waiting to serve anytime learning’s lovesome diet Closely sheltered from the tumult of the world The place, though serene had an eerie air And books like so many beauties in a harem Were kept away in seclusion just to admire The lifeless air and the long deserted look Mildly disturbed my inner calm Couldn’t digest man’s total disregard of books Which for long, to many a lonely soul, served as balm Sitting amid those gallant souls I thought over the relentless efforts of sage like men Who in the stillness of the night, in their cloistured cells Plunged into research and meditative reflection What knowledge is garnered in these tomes! What all charms, encased in these pages! To what magic lands they can carry us Sharing with us the accumulated wisdom of ages With the profusion of electronic gadgets And information, readily available by a finger hit Books no more are given a venerable treat And fated to be stashed away in corners unlit Heavy with the time tested wisdom of the wise They sit huddled together in damp corners Longing to get a little human warmth But sadly neglected like rusted burners After an hour’s enervating reprieve While I was leaving that dumb world In my ears, fell a faint sound Of the agonizing cry of the Printed Word!
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40
Wind swept Wild places the grass it puts on a veritable orchestra of movement as it undulates to the power of the breeze that passes Mountain meadows splashed with a profusion of flowers they jiggle as if there tickled about something or other The crest of the hill bordered with trees sloping down the hill children are running reminiscent of Jack and Jill This utopia of nature sets aside the hurly burly the curvature of the hills still the wind hold the sun just right you it invites Cross these pasture lands the feeding ground of many cattle and sheep the pride of the farmer who keeps Inexorably bound by breed and creed for centuries this way of life flourishes among these native grasses Tender shoots these roots give of their riches the sun and rain gives them a time to reign with joy all reaps Pleasure in the walk letting fingers glide over the heads of tall grasses the silent telling of harmony filled poise Future generations will be brought to these shadowed grounds they too will by their lives express and know contentment Hourly they hold in sod that has known the breath of time as it has passed time and time again it enlivens breaks fourth Sturdy and resplendent it shows all its dependability the same respect settlers knew is found the builders of this continent Long shadows grow upon earths shoulders she knows the good and the bad but through resilience remains unconquered The distant mountain stands eternal guard, it affects rainfall, mutes the winds force guarantying a peaceful valley Perpetuity is taught in this land tomorrows unfold from days gone by with regularity they build and keep the way open Stewardship the blessed hope working in harmony with all that surrounds at days end this will be the final sum and tally The herdsman knows the time he invests it well always with broad vision does he act in this wisdom all will be victorious
0
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:45 PM UTC
hal-loyd-denton
Wind swept
Wind swept Wild places the grass it puts on a veritable orchestra of movement as it undulates to the power of the breeze that passes Mountain meadows splashed with a profusion of flowers they jiggle as if there tickled about something or other The crest of the hill bordered with trees sloping down the hill children are running reminiscent of Jack and Jill This utopia of nature sets aside the hurly burly the curvature of the hills still the wind hold the sun just right you it invites Cross these pasture lands the feeding ground of many cattle and sheep the pride of the farmer who keeps Inexorably bound by breed and creed for centuries this way of life flourishes among these native grasses Tender shoots these roots give of their riches the sun and rain gives them a time to reign with joy all reaps Pleasure in the walk letting fingers glide over the heads of tall grasses the silent telling of harmony filled poise Future generations will be brought to these shadowed grounds they too will by their lives express and know contentment Hourly they hold in sod that has known the breath of time as it has passed time and time again it enlivens breaks fourth Sturdy and resplendent it shows all its dependability the same respect settlers knew is found the builders of this continent Long shadows grow upon earths shoulders she knows the good and the bad but through resilience remains unconquered The distant mountain stands eternal guard, it affects rainfall, mutes the winds force guarantying a peaceful valley Perpetuity is taught in this land tomorrows unfold from days gone by with regularity they build and keep the way open Stewardship the blessed hope working in harmony with all that surrounds at days end this will be the final sum and tally The herdsman knows the time he invests it well always with broad vision does he act in this wisdom all will be victorious
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17
അ**  Getting closer, to the just bloomed flower that bewitched him in an instant, the honey bee gets intoxicated by the web  of love, the sweet flower threw around, it felt more like a gentle caress to which his heart jumped! He  starts to do an ecstatic dance, never thought he could, till this sweet moment arrived, merely touching her soft petals he flies high as if to proclaim his pleasure buzzing a new tune he composed for this special moment, he circles the flower as if to adore her beauty form all possible angles making the moments of love so special for them both.. ആ** A butterfly enchanted by the flower,next has a dance of love so different, he would flit around and hover above adore her beauty in a more relaxed pace, he appreciates her silence to his soft declarations, his love songs have no words, on air written by the sprightly moves of his colorful wings, he knows she loves it and his dance tells it all. Like a kite on the waves of wind, he bobs on air gently descending,looking at her eyes. ഇ**  The tailor bird who never misses mother nature's children all,big and small, in their myriad ways of loving and living watches what's going on, without batting an eye lid, she has a doubt "Who among these   lovers are more intense?" she thinks aloud.** ഈ** The sonorous singer, Bulbul watching it all from the hanging branch of a Champak, flowered in riotous profusion answers: ഉ   "Both are poets, no doubt, of  distinction too, each of their deeds spontaneous demonstrates, with hearts full of love they wave poetry around us in ways ingenious paired with flowers. why compare them? Mother nature's brush dexterous paints each one of us with such loving care  and kindness to infuse celebratory spirit,to the world, never forget that,learn from the bees and butterflies."*
0
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
k-balachandran
Nature paints her poetry around us
അ**  Getting closer, to the just bloomed flower that bewitched him in an instant, the honey bee gets intoxicated by the web  of love, the sweet flower threw around, it felt more like a gentle caress to which his heart jumped! He  starts to do an ecstatic dance, never thought he could, till this sweet moment arrived, merely touching her soft petals he flies high as if to proclaim his pleasure buzzing a new tune he composed for this special moment, he circles the flower as if to adore her beauty form all possible angles making the moments of love so special for them both.. ആ** A butterfly enchanted by the flower,next has a dance of love so different, he would flit around and hover above adore her beauty in a more relaxed pace, he appreciates her silence to his soft declarations, his love songs have no words, on air written by the sprightly moves of his colorful wings, he knows she loves it and his dance tells it all. Like a kite on the waves of wind, he bobs on air gently descending,looking at her eyes. ഇ**  The tailor bird who never misses mother nature's children all,big and small, in their myriad ways of loving and living watches what's going on, without batting an eye lid, she has a doubt "Who among these   lovers are more intense?" she thinks aloud.** ഈ** The sonorous singer, Bulbul watching it all from the hanging branch of a Champak, flowered in riotous profusion answers: ഉ   "Both are poets, no doubt, of  distinction too, each of their deeds spontaneous demonstrates, with hearts full of love they wave poetry around us in ways ingenious paired with flowers. why compare them? Mother nature's brush dexterous paints each one of us with such loving care  and kindness to infuse celebratory spirit,to the world, never forget that,learn from the bees and butterflies."*
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57
I reference this not as the flower just of nature but in this case for the fact it is our anniversary this is an Oleander of my heart yes the heart is a house all of my feelings and emotions are housed there the Flower I choose to write about is my sister my wife’s sister Liz it’s kind of appropriate since she was the Only one in our wedding party as we were married before a judge I guess she was a witness a witness to The crime as it were to describe her I can use Roy Orbison’s song pretty woman a blonde cutie with Southern roots in Tennessee now she is a near Chicago northerner take southern nights and northern Bright lights infuse them with grace and charm you have begun to see the Oleander that lies beyond my Door yard along my walk and borders the yard of my heart the glistening in the spring rain if you get real Still you can hear tiny sounds of laughter among the joy filled faces the scented bloom fills my living Room where ever I am eye catching satisfying delightful spring and summer what a wonder the spilling Forth of fruitful life she matches the rose in pose an attitude of significance tinged with just enough Brashness to hold your attention until you become beholden to the inner life that shows character Wisdom authority a driven wind that lays down in the most beautiful fashion only to arise and make the Trees sing the glass to shake in the most enjoyable way all in unison they dance the eye stormed by this Profusion of elegance and color truly a best friend to the wayward wind carried near and far secrets rest Within the heart that the Oleander knows and claims in darkness unflappable a sweet ghostliness an Arbor found sweetly remembered but never forgotten unspoiled withstanding the day’s heat showing Resilience a buoyancy of sprit uncommon the thrill that runs with deep rootedness when the sharp wind Does blow she through power of will brings calm a flourish of maturity so lovely that is outstanding in all these gifts she provides the greatest is she calls me friend thanks sis
0
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
hal-loyd-denton
Perennial Oleander
I reference this not as the flower just of nature but in this case for the fact it is our anniversary this is an Oleander of my heart yes the heart is a house all of my feelings and emotions are housed there the Flower I choose to write about is my sister my wife’s sister Liz it’s kind of appropriate since she was the Only one in our wedding party as we were married before a judge I guess she was a witness a witness to The crime as it were to describe her I can use Roy Orbison’s song pretty woman a blonde cutie with Southern roots in Tennessee now she is a near Chicago northerner take southern nights and northern Bright lights infuse them with grace and charm you have begun to see the Oleander that lies beyond my Door yard along my walk and borders the yard of my heart the glistening in the spring rain if you get real Still you can hear tiny sounds of laughter among the joy filled faces the scented bloom fills my living Room where ever I am eye catching satisfying delightful spring and summer what a wonder the spilling Forth of fruitful life she matches the rose in pose an attitude of significance tinged with just enough Brashness to hold your attention until you become beholden to the inner life that shows character Wisdom authority a driven wind that lays down in the most beautiful fashion only to arise and make the Trees sing the glass to shake in the most enjoyable way all in unison they dance the eye stormed by this Profusion of elegance and color truly a best friend to the wayward wind carried near and far secrets rest Within the heart that the Oleander knows and claims in darkness unflappable a sweet ghostliness an Arbor found sweetly remembered but never forgotten unspoiled withstanding the day’s heat showing Resilience a buoyancy of sprit uncommon the thrill that runs with deep rootedness when the sharp wind Does blow she through power of will brings calm a flourish of maturity so lovely that is outstanding in all these gifts she provides the greatest is she calls me friend thanks sis
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20
Foaming sunlight makes love                  with the tender purple leaves of mango trees, light crafts a crust of luminescence,                   over the profusion of yellow and blue blooms, avenue trees vie with each other to  hold forth                   their  flowers on sun's water fall of light to bath. Evening doesn't show any sign of waning                    the ebullience the day had sowed in the world, "ANANDA" though unspoken as a word, aloud                     is heard by  inner being, making everyone rejoice, living and nonliving seamlessly join in,                     and swim in the swelling  waters of force of life. past invisible floats gently to the present                   flows towards a sea of tranquility crossing nights.
0
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
k-balachandran
*Ananda Unmitigated
Foaming sunlight makes love                  with the tender purple leaves of mango trees, light crafts a crust of luminescence,                   over the profusion of yellow and blue blooms, avenue trees vie with each other to  hold forth                   their  flowers on sun's water fall of light to bath. Evening doesn't show any sign of waning                    the ebullience the day had sowed in the world, "ANANDA" though unspoken as a word, aloud                     is heard by  inner being, making everyone rejoice, living and nonliving seamlessly join in,                     and swim in the swelling  waters of force of life. past invisible floats gently to the present                   flows towards a sea of tranquility crossing nights.
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14
The stench of burning flesh and ***** Imbuing the air Carcasses of infant demons Putrefying in the crater Dissected impure angels hemorrhaging Repugnancy dominates Shrieking Quivering Floundering as they flutter their rotten wings A profusion of worms Falling from mouths like a cataract Smoke coming out of their halos No longer reigning In this, their hades Swollen with beasts in utero Perpetuating abominations Soon it will be their turn To liquefy in the lava
0
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
noose
This, their hades.
The stench of burning flesh and ***** Imbuing the air Carcasses of infant demons Putrefying in the crater Dissected impure angels hemorrhaging Repugnancy dominates Shrieking Quivering Floundering as they flutter their rotten wings A profusion of worms Falling from mouths like a cataract Smoke coming out of their halos No longer reigning In this, their hades Swollen with beasts in utero Perpetuating abominations Soon it will be their turn To liquefy in the lava
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18
I peeked in and on her bed in gay profusion lying there. Lovely ribbons,scarlet ribbons,scarlet ribbons for her hair. Moonbeams pierced the silent night. polished her brush bronze cheeks. the ghost of a smile quivered  her mouth.slowly her lips parted and she said a name . whispered. still asleep in a dream. (please lord let me go ahead when we part. What would my purpose be after) I knew it just then that to live without her would be my hell and so I laid awake savoring every minute the rise and fall of her chest.Burning Burning her into my fiber .Laid quietly beside her . Cursed my mortality. Scarlet ribbons,lovely ribbons for her hair. If I live to be one hundred.I will never know from where Came those ribbons,scarlet ribbons.Scarlet ribbons for her hair. Lovely ribbons,scarlet ribbons,Scarlet ribbons for her hair. I will never know from where.
0
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 1:47 AM UTC
geno-cattouse-1
Scarlet ribbons
I peeked in and on her bed in gay profusion lying there. Lovely ribbons,scarlet ribbons,scarlet ribbons for her hair. Moonbeams pierced the silent night. polished her brush bronze cheeks. the ghost of a smile quivered  her mouth.slowly her lips parted and she said a name . whispered. still asleep in a dream. (please lord let me go ahead when we part. What would my purpose be after) I knew it just then that to live without her would be my hell and so I laid awake savoring every minute the rise and fall of her chest.Burning Burning her into my fiber .Laid quietly beside her . Cursed my mortality. Scarlet ribbons,lovely ribbons for her hair. If I live to be one hundred.I will never know from where Came those ribbons,scarlet ribbons.Scarlet ribbons for her hair. Lovely ribbons,scarlet ribbons,Scarlet ribbons for her hair. I will never know from where.
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16
The strapping young boys Will play with their toys And cause harm to er'one around. They'll make lots of noise, Colluded with poise, Among them not a soul to be found. It wasn't too long Before they were turned on To firm over in Illinois, Where collusion has proven A blooming conclusion For all whom they choose to employ. "Is this an illusion?" Said one in confusion. "I'm successful and happy and paid. "I'm a millionaire With brilliant hair, And a beautiful dame of a maid!" "Pardon my intrusion, You've chosen profusion O'er doing the world some good. "Prepare for seclusion- A lonely conclusion Is knocking beneath your hood."
0
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 5:54 PM UTC
auroleus
Sociopath
The strapping young boys Will play with their toys And cause harm to er'one around. They'll make lots of noise, Colluded with poise, Among them not a soul to be found. It wasn't too long Before they were turned on To firm over in Illinois, Where collusion has proven A blooming conclusion For all whom they choose to employ. "Is this an illusion?" Said one in confusion. "I'm successful and happy and paid. "I'm a millionaire With brilliant hair, And a beautiful dame of a maid!" "Pardon my intrusion, You've chosen profusion O'er doing the world some good. "Prepare for seclusion- A lonely conclusion Is knocking beneath your hood."
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24
This gentle forest, you lead me to, taking my hand, brings deja vu, beauty in waves after waves invades, consciousness dances in pleasure, profusion of colors, bird tweets, whisper of leaves,medley of fragrances, mind swims in magic waters, when your lips touch mine, I faint.
0
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 10:09 PM UTC
k-balachandran
Aesthetic euphoria
This gentle forest, you lead me to, taking my hand, brings deja vu, beauty in waves after waves invades, consciousness dances in pleasure, profusion of colors, bird tweets, whisper of leaves,medley of fragrances, mind swims in magic waters, when your lips touch mine, I faint.
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4
An effusive elaborate scheme the colors advance to bright spellbinding allure then they achieve Depth of quality by cutting back to softer hues and then the natural dark green is the bold Touch that succeeds with total symmetry showcased in a view perfected by glass the prism Most fitting not only to see but to be captivated by perfected expression it is a metaphor for life The master designer chooses his subjects well one infuses another then by degree others Foreshadow and glorify it blends tangible and intangible into intelligent coherent order tasteful And sublime the hint and the elusive wonder all is needed is the wind to bow and ****** it into A profusion a veritable concert that stirs with appeal life is in motion the players advance and Retreat each speaking lines unique to themselves what sensations speak tendrils on a garden Trellis held and fixed a gesture that plays and portrays intricate details the mystery that plays so Well the stealing of morning frost then the blaze and then restful dying rays that spell comfort The field rolls and contorts this brandishes excitement exuberance veers and plunders life Become exploration trails hidden thickets hide and hold expression that is pent up ready to Explode what vesture we wear it grips our friend’s astonishment is read on their faces but it is Like a house of many mirrors because their lives are having the same effect on you some days Are uneventful others are storm tossed with grandness the riches of an all contained realm Spasms convulse like waves of the sea we stand forth to puzzle and dream what does it all Mean the sanctity reveals plumes that are invisible that are far reaching and they have given us This course of endurance that belies longing we grow soft and an inner glowing surpasses the Stringent the misfit that moans against conforming we are treasure that exceeds all expectation Life is rich we are its brightest colors and light night is for brooding the day is for shinning and Divulging the secrets found in the brooding time we accost others we signify to them not only Our own worth but there’s also fetching is the spray that magnifies the sky we are the bursting We are the aliveness that is found each day in our lives that is the dooryard of discovery --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
0
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
hal-loyd-denton
Bursting Colors
An effusive elaborate scheme the colors advance to bright spellbinding allure then they achieve Depth of quality by cutting back to softer hues and then the natural dark green is the bold Touch that succeeds with total symmetry showcased in a view perfected by glass the prism Most fitting not only to see but to be captivated by perfected expression it is a metaphor for life The master designer chooses his subjects well one infuses another then by degree others Foreshadow and glorify it blends tangible and intangible into intelligent coherent order tasteful And sublime the hint and the elusive wonder all is needed is the wind to bow and ****** it into A profusion a veritable concert that stirs with appeal life is in motion the players advance and Retreat each speaking lines unique to themselves what sensations speak tendrils on a garden Trellis held and fixed a gesture that plays and portrays intricate details the mystery that plays so Well the stealing of morning frost then the blaze and then restful dying rays that spell comfort The field rolls and contorts this brandishes excitement exuberance veers and plunders life Become exploration trails hidden thickets hide and hold expression that is pent up ready to Explode what vesture we wear it grips our friend’s astonishment is read on their faces but it is Like a house of many mirrors because their lives are having the same effect on you some days Are uneventful others are storm tossed with grandness the riches of an all contained realm Spasms convulse like waves of the sea we stand forth to puzzle and dream what does it all Mean the sanctity reveals plumes that are invisible that are far reaching and they have given us This course of endurance that belies longing we grow soft and an inner glowing surpasses the Stringent the misfit that moans against conforming we are treasure that exceeds all expectation Life is rich we are its brightest colors and light night is for brooding the day is for shinning and Divulging the secrets found in the brooding time we accost others we signify to them not only Our own worth but there’s also fetching is the spray that magnifies the sky we are the bursting We are the aliveness that is found each day in our lives that is the dooryard of discovery --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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25
Sug The frame a town in the Midwest time teen years the person a girl I have been touched by the Smokies Its southern magnificence the heritage it evokes, the Rockies awe inspiring, the Sierra Nevada its Grandeur commanding sheltered by the San Gabriel’s as I played in Los Angeles these places have one Thing in common they cause you to look out and beyond on the rich views below and they cause a Mighty flood of memories to crash ever so sweetly in the soul yes plenty of teenagers were around but For different reasons each uniquely stood out and apart all that made up the texture of this time its Greatness the final touches were being added to our lives and from this we would go on the harder Sometimes tougher road of life but in the midst of it all she stood like a Goldenrod impossible to miss Bright yellow in the profusion of other vivid colors for Ed unforgettable she possesses an undertow of Quiet Cool she didn’t make a great stir but a gentle one you slowly stepped and submerged yourself in The Quiet magic she created truly the pebble had fallen into the pool imperceptibly you couldn’t put You’re Finger on when but the circles continued to widen and you felt their effects a gentle hush Pervaded our sometimes rambunctious lives she at times was that indefinable darker hue that brought Depth to The picture soothing tremble that came into your life touched you then continued to the outer Reaches Still it lingered and in its make up hope sprang up causing a defense ageist alarm no harm Defied Her Charm this is just my simple way of saying thanks for being a wondrous part of my youth and what I am today and also happy birthday Sug
0
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 2:02 AM UTC
hal-loyd-denton
Sug
Sug The frame a town in the Midwest time teen years the person a girl I have been touched by the Smokies Its southern magnificence the heritage it evokes, the Rockies awe inspiring, the Sierra Nevada its Grandeur commanding sheltered by the San Gabriel’s as I played in Los Angeles these places have one Thing in common they cause you to look out and beyond on the rich views below and they cause a Mighty flood of memories to crash ever so sweetly in the soul yes plenty of teenagers were around but For different reasons each uniquely stood out and apart all that made up the texture of this time its Greatness the final touches were being added to our lives and from this we would go on the harder Sometimes tougher road of life but in the midst of it all she stood like a Goldenrod impossible to miss Bright yellow in the profusion of other vivid colors for Ed unforgettable she possesses an undertow of Quiet Cool she didn’t make a great stir but a gentle one you slowly stepped and submerged yourself in The Quiet magic she created truly the pebble had fallen into the pool imperceptibly you couldn’t put You’re Finger on when but the circles continued to widen and you felt their effects a gentle hush Pervaded our sometimes rambunctious lives she at times was that indefinable darker hue that brought Depth to The picture soothing tremble that came into your life touched you then continued to the outer Reaches Still it lingered and in its make up hope sprang up causing a defense ageist alarm no harm Defied Her Charm this is just my simple way of saying thanks for being a wondrous part of my youth and what I am today and also happy birthday Sug
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18
*The break of dawn- I stand near the  river flowing like life, open my eyes wide and gaze the purple sun, starting to climb up the sky. Water in my cupped joined palms offered to the sun slowly gets heated, warmth permeates to my body. In to my inner ear sun whispers his music of colors; a profusion beyond words, that creates in my inside world, never ending fields of sunflowers, that in joy, dance. Thoughts that has roots in light, emerge from deep down in mind, on day and night.*
0
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
k-balachandran
Sun Dance
*The break of dawn- I stand near the  river flowing like life, open my eyes wide and gaze the purple sun, starting to climb up the sky. Water in my cupped joined palms offered to the sun slowly gets heated, warmth permeates to my body. In to my inner ear sun whispers his music of colors; a profusion beyond words, that creates in my inside world, never ending fields of sunflowers, that in joy, dance. Thoughts that has roots in light, emerge from deep down in mind, on day and night.*
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29
Inflection Infliction Infection Defective Defenseless Impressive Depression Impression Departure From Reality Surreality Purity Into Frailty Depravity Definitely Causing Confusion Diffusion Profusion In Inflection Infection Imprison
0
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
jimmy-karnidge
Infusion
Inflection Infliction Infection Defective Defenseless Impressive Depression Impression Departure From Reality Surreality Purity Into Frailty Depravity Definitely Causing Confusion Diffusion Profusion In Inflection Infection Imprison
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25
There's a blank sheet of paper I hung on the wall My mother suggested to after a fall A fall of inspiration, Dead of true life, Hope prancing, leaping, dashing, In the light of unconventional thought beyond all comprehension, Of dancing on cloud floors, declining haze of the forests, While insouciant specks of light, similar to glowing pointillism Can sharply puncture one's un-anticipating boredom And infect with a communicable virus of Celestial inspiration. I always look back on that paper and perceive, Beyond my tantalized body and anguishing mind Through it's blankness, it's empty slate, It's disgusting plainness, piercing my hope, It's beauty in its... Lack of anything, null, nought, nothingness-- An array, plethora, profusion, superfluity Of inconceivable courses of actions Breathtaking inspiration.
0
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
a-new-optimism
That Blank Sheet of Paper Hung
There's a blank sheet of paper I hung on the wall My mother suggested to after a fall A fall of inspiration, Dead of true life, Hope prancing, leaping, dashing, In the light of unconventional thought beyond all comprehension, Of dancing on cloud floors, declining haze of the forests, While insouciant specks of light, similar to glowing pointillism Can sharply puncture one's un-anticipating boredom And infect with a communicable virus of Celestial inspiration. I always look back on that paper and perceive, Beyond my tantalized body and anguishing mind Through it's blankness, it's empty slate, It's disgusting plainness, piercing my hope, It's beauty in its... Lack of anything, null, nought, nothingness-- An array, plethora, profusion, superfluity Of inconceivable courses of actions Breathtaking inspiration.
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19
You visit this place You do not stay long There’s nothing here that speaks of settlement Everything you do has an edge of intensity wet by the weather sharpened by the clock If you try to be still in what passes for shelter the wind will find you seek you out So with the camera your primary tool begin to collect - image after image after image Point and click : view and share Eventually the mark-making begins though fraught with difficulty it seems just hopeless this testing out of the body’s response to what passes before the scanning eye Blink and the image shifts There is this fierce and on-going campaign between the near : between the far What lies at your feet : what decorates the horizon. After a few hours wrapped round in nature’s vortex the eye and brain are exhausted by the profusion of it all wearied by the press of wind, the touch of rain, the glare of sun Always the problem of what you do with what you’ve seen and touched with cold hands pulling out metal objects from the sand whose rusted and distressed forms will lie exposed on the studio table The place marks you Rain and wind on the face raise new freckles there’s a salty veneer to the skin the rub of sand : a wash of seawater the grasp of pebbles : wood’s chiromatic grain The lexicon of texture expands under your fingers changes of temperature : degrees of saturation and further uncompromising perspectives unimaginable yet in two dimensions Beyond beachcombing this is seacoast surgery Away from it all (and out of the wind) your memory stretches to the corners of recall Wandering through a home-centred day as in a waking dream knowing you’ve already gathered all manner of sensory matter held and stored in the pineal gland flowing free in Meissner’s corpuscles Even absorbed in conversation’s company as you turn away to fill the kettle you are on the beach back in the wind scanning the memory tin : priming the future.
0
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 3:54 AM UTC
nigel-morgan
Textures of Spurn
You visit this place You do not stay long There’s nothing here that speaks of settlement Everything you do has an edge of intensity wet by the weather sharpened by the clock If you try to be still in what passes for shelter the wind will find you seek you out So with the camera your primary tool begin to collect - image after image after image Point and click : view and share Eventually the mark-making begins though fraught with difficulty it seems just hopeless this testing out of the body’s response to what passes before the scanning eye Blink and the image shifts There is this fierce and on-going campaign between the near : between the far What lies at your feet : what decorates the horizon. After a few hours wrapped round in nature’s vortex the eye and brain are exhausted by the profusion of it all wearied by the press of wind, the touch of rain, the glare of sun Always the problem of what you do with what you’ve seen and touched with cold hands pulling out metal objects from the sand whose rusted and distressed forms will lie exposed on the studio table The place marks you Rain and wind on the face raise new freckles there’s a salty veneer to the skin the rub of sand : a wash of seawater the grasp of pebbles : wood’s chiromatic grain The lexicon of texture expands under your fingers changes of temperature : degrees of saturation and further uncompromising perspectives unimaginable yet in two dimensions Beyond beachcombing this is seacoast surgery Away from it all (and out of the wind) your memory stretches to the corners of recall Wandering through a home-centred day as in a waking dream knowing you’ve already gathered all manner of sensory matter held and stored in the pineal gland flowing free in Meissner’s corpuscles Even absorbed in conversation’s company as you turn away to fill the kettle you are on the beach back in the wind scanning the memory tin : priming the future.
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54
Tracing back… that is what I am doing now, just tracing back along this woodland path, in an attempt to grasp remnants of a time when I felt so alive, yet dying. Thoughts and memories, they fall like these leaves, a melange of confusion, beauty and frailty Swept away by the wind, scattered or swept into a pile, unified. Either way, they can be stomped on, brittle leaves crushed into a satisfying crunch. All around me, there’s a profusion of vermilion, gold and copper but those reds have always been my favorite— so alive, yet can also mean bleeding. I see a pumpkin carved out, a creepy smile adorning its face A chuckle escapes from my lips, remembering that time when laughter lived in harmony with love. Now, I am not sure anymore… Because how can something that had so much hope, so verdant, change? I am a fool, for the answers are so obvious— I only need to look at these leaves. So much like our lives, these seasons… Not very long, I will be staring up at argentine skies. The thought of it gives me chills— I pray for spring.
0
Oct 2, 2011
Oct 2, 2011 at 11:13 AM UTC
raen
Fall of a Melancholic
Tracing back… that is what I am doing now, just tracing back along this woodland path, in an attempt to grasp remnants of a time when I felt so alive, yet dying. Thoughts and memories, they fall like these leaves, a melange of confusion, beauty and frailty Swept away by the wind, scattered or swept into a pile, unified. Either way, they can be stomped on, brittle leaves crushed into a satisfying crunch. All around me, there’s a profusion of vermilion, gold and copper but those reds have always been my favorite— so alive, yet can also mean bleeding. I see a pumpkin carved out, a creepy smile adorning its face A chuckle escapes from my lips, remembering that time when laughter lived in harmony with love. Now, I am not sure anymore… Because how can something that had so much hope, so verdant, change? I am a fool, for the answers are so obvious— I only need to look at these leaves. So much like our lives, these seasons… Not very long, I will be staring up at argentine skies. The thought of it gives me chills— I pray for spring.
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36
in the rictus of an amethyst eve lays the indomitable promise of cotton festering under salient groves of hot fingers licking the ridge of supple ******* in profusion dapple crescent lips and sickle rivers running heavy drunk limbic tickling breathes. so wet. the damp ember carousing. in fragrant discord. all sensual clamor violently. in verily know my limbs and every atom of my dew for i shall sprawl upon your effigy the clusters of my heart
0
Aug 14, 2010
Aug 14, 2010 at 4:17 PM UTC
patrick-wakefield-1
y
in the rictus of an amethyst eve lays the indomitable promise of cotton festering under salient groves of hot fingers licking the ridge of supple ******* in profusion dapple crescent lips and sickle rivers running heavy drunk limbic tickling breathes. so wet. the damp ember carousing. in fragrant discord. all sensual clamor violently. in verily know my limbs and every atom of my dew for i shall sprawl upon your effigy the clusters of my heart
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11
obsidian profusion (from pale scalp) smothers my understanding i've lost my i looking into {your} unimaginable eye's viridian temptation envelopes my physical construct (and for all my corded sinew i am so weak to your nuzzling) please just kiss me with those unbearable lips ;innocence is the worst sin
0
Apr 15, 2010
Apr 15, 2010 at 12:38 PM UTC
patrick-wakefield-1
jessica
obsidian profusion (from pale scalp) smothers my understanding i've lost my i looking into {your} unimaginable eye's viridian temptation envelopes my physical construct (and for all my corded sinew i am so weak to your nuzzling) please just kiss me with those unbearable lips ;innocence is the worst sin
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19
The world holds it’s terrible coves. I am set obliged around them. Surmising the wrong I propose. Entity’s so immoral, clout’s. Scrupulous self closed. Weakened and stricken keen doubts. Bedevil prodding youth-less one. Profusion glut under autumn’s frore sun.
0
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 3:09 PM UTC
meb-1
Kid's On ****** Here (For J.R R.I.P)
The world holds it’s terrible coves. I am set obliged around them. Surmising the wrong I propose. Entity’s so immoral, clout’s. Scrupulous self closed. Weakened and stricken keen doubts. Bedevil prodding youth-less one. Profusion glut under autumn’s frore sun.
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8