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"radiantly" poems
It was effortlessly beautiful that night, shining the brightest amongst all. I've never seen it glowing radiantly, such exquisite sight is rarely seen. I ponder upon the beauty, unlike any other day where it was just a crescent and sometimes faded. It reminded me of someone, someone whom I've lost while i was busy searching for the star.
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Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
The full moon
wake up, tell me does the sky look pretty? step off, outside, does the sun shine radiantly? look around, listen, do the birds sing beautifully? if you ask me, i'd say, that it all looks lovely.
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Feb 21, 2025
Feb 21, 2025 at 12:43 PM UTC
Lovely
There is a wondrous feeling of completeness When immersed in the act of … Cleaning a flute The soft light radiantly refracting from The slightly concave… Keys The shimmering of the shiny sleek skin A perfect nickel finish… It’s sexiness salute A strangely seductive serpent stealing My willpower; I submit to you… With ease The perfection of this harmonious union As my trembling hands caress… Your heavenly body Gently working away until my eyes are Illuminated by your brilliance… Your gleaming sheen Intoxicated, mesmerised by your lustre The warm ambience brings out… Your luminous beauty Ready now for my lips to blow a refrain A sweet tune is primed… The flute is now clean Let the melody begin…
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Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 9:22 AM UTC
Cleaning a Flute
Kindred spirits sharing love from around the world, Touching each other with their welcoming words Having never seen another face to face at all Embracing life pages as their words are now heard We find great hope in the hearts and minds we meet Eating from the same table of Gods creative delight As are filled daily with amazing genuine words Finding our great love for sharing helps us to unite Daily together we lift up hungry spirits in this world With our individual gifts trying not to leave one behind As we all are part of the same beautiful sharing coverlet Full of the real love which our God always had in mind Even though we as humans in many ways are the same We each are gifted specifically by His heavenly design Being bound to the loving spirit of sharing our words To shine radiantly through others His true love divine United we become a real compelling power to others When our written words genuinely carry true weight Because the strength of our inner spirits great vigor Over time helps many lives in this world be reshaped.
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Mar 14, 2017
Mar 14, 2017 at 6:08 AM UTC
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE
Can something really be beautifully  tragic? Is it possible for a being to be gracefully destructive? How can a life be insignificantly worthwhile? Does that mean an existence can be grotesquely appealing? Could you be more radiantly  pitiful? You are stunningly heart-rending. How are you so delicately harrowing? You are harmlessly treacherous.
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Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 11:21 PM UTC
Dangerously Ravishing
I chased her in the ivory moonlight, her ebony hair curling softly over her dark skinned shoulders. A faint smile with a chasing laugh followed on lips as soft as down. We ran down by the sandy sweet seaside. The shore called our names and our feet carried us forward. Frothing waves kissed our feet as my hand slid into hers. Their roar quitened as we drew near. The night disguised us as I wrapped her safely in my arms and held her closely to me. Her radiantly sparkling eyes told me I was right in leaning down to softly kiss her, my hand trailing through her tresses and down her back to rest lightly on her hip. It was the first of many as we stood under that heavenly sky, alit with stars and the faint twinkling of refracted light from the crests of the waves. As I led her by the hand back towards my home, our footprints stood still. A memory in the sand.
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Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
Romance by the Seaside.
CHEERFUL voices by the sea-side Echoed through the summer air, Happy children, fresh and rosy, Sang and sported freely there, Often turning friendly glances, Where, neglectful of them all, On his bed among the gray rocks, Mused the pale child, little Paul. For he never joined their pastimes, Never danced upon the sand, Only smiled upon them kindly, Only waved his wasted hand. Many a treasured gift they bore him, Best beloved among them all. Many a childish heart grieved sadly, Thinking of poor little Paul. But while Florence was beside him, While her face above him bent, While her dear voice sounded near him, He was happy and content; Watching ever the great billows, Listening to their ceaseless fall, For they brought a pleasant music To the ear of little Paul. 'Sister Floy,' the pale child whispered, 'What is that the blue waves say? What strange message are they bringing From that shore so far away? Who is dwelling in that country Whence a low voice seems to call Softly, through the dash of waters, 'Come away, my little Paul'?' But sad Florence could not answer, Though her dim eyes tenderly Watched the wistful face, that ever Gazed across the restless sea, While the sunshine like a blessing On his bright hair seemed to fall, And the winds grew more caressing, As they kissed frail little Paul. Ere long, paler and more wasted, On another bed he lay, Where the city's din and discord Echoed round him day by day; While the voice that to his spirit By the sea-side seemed to call, Sounded with its tender music Very near to little Paul. As the deep tones of the ocean Linger in the frailest shell, So the lonely sea-side musings In his memory seemed to dwell. And he talked of golden waters Rippling on his chamber wall, While their melody in fancy Cheered the heart of little Paul. Clinging fast to faithful Florence, Murmuring faintly night and day, Of the swift and darksome river Bearing him so far away, Toward a shore whose blessed sunshine Seemed most radiantly to fall On a beautiful mild spirit, Waiting there for little Paul. So the tide of life ebbed slowly, Till the last wave died away, And nothing but the fragile wreck On the sister's ***** lay. And from out death's solemn waters, Lifted high above them all, In her arms the spirit mother Bore the soul of little Paul.
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2.5k
Little Paul
CHEERFUL voices by the sea-side Echoed through the summer air, Happy children, fresh and rosy, Sang and sported freely there, Often turning friendly glances, Where, neglectful of them all, On his bed among the gray rocks, Mused the pale child, little Paul. For he never joined their pastimes, Never danced upon the sand, Only smiled upon them kindly, Only waved his wasted hand. Many a treasured gift they bore him, Best beloved among them all. Many a childish heart grieved sadly, Thinking of poor little Paul. But while Florence was beside him, While her face above him bent, While her dear voice sounded near him, He was happy and content; Watching ever the great billows, Listening to their ceaseless fall, For they brought a pleasant music To the ear of little Paul. 'Sister Floy,' the pale child whispered, 'What is that the blue waves say? What strange message are they bringing From that shore so far away? Who is dwelling in that country Whence a low voice seems to call Softly, through the dash of waters, 'Come away, my little Paul'?' But sad Florence could not answer, Though her dim eyes tenderly Watched the wistful face, that ever Gazed across the restless sea, While the sunshine like a blessing On his bright hair seemed to fall, And the winds grew more caressing, As they kissed frail little Paul. Ere long, paler and more wasted, On another bed he lay, Where the city's din and discord Echoed round him day by day; While the voice that to his spirit By the sea-side seemed to call, Sounded with its tender music Very near to little Paul. As the deep tones of the ocean Linger in the frailest shell, So the lonely sea-side musings In his memory seemed to dwell. And he talked of golden waters Rippling on his chamber wall, While their melody in fancy Cheered the heart of little Paul. Clinging fast to faithful Florence, Murmuring faintly night and day, Of the swift and darksome river Bearing him so far away, Toward a shore whose blessed sunshine Seemed most radiantly to fall On a beautiful mild spirit, Waiting there for little Paul. So the tide of life ebbed slowly, Till the last wave died away, And nothing but the fragile wreck On the sister's ***** lay. And from out death's solemn waters, Lifted high above them all, In her arms the spirit mother Bore the soul of little Paul.
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72
As each day in my life passes by I fall deeper in love with You As the sun does rise and set I find it always remains so true There will never be a day I face When You are not fully on my mind For loneliness no longer dwells within As my soul knows no lonesome times My eyes shed tears of sweet happiness Yet, in my heart I shine radiantly As my smile daily shows it gladness With words spoken so enchantingly Of the One whom I love so deeply With the passing of each new day As each one brings me a blessing new My love grows deeper in many ways.
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
Deeper In Love
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon; How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver, Streaking the darkness radiantly! -yet soon Night closes round, and they are lost for ever: Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings Give various response to each varying blast, To whose frail frame no second motion brings One mood or modulation like the last. We rest.—A dream has power to poison sleep; We rise.—One wandering thought pollutes the day; We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep; Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away: It is the same!—For, be it joy or sorrow, The path of its departure still is free: Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow; Nought may endure but Mutablilty.
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2.3k
Mutability
Every dawn is a nexus, / Every twilight is a beckoning; therefore, / Embrace the fickle future / Ensconscing within the sacral oath / Of a thousand words: / These utterances shall envelop you / When upon Triumphal Arcadian Skies / We meet again. / Save your tears, / For love shall reign / From the empyreal aethers above / To the Gaian epidermis of / The Magnanimous Matriarch; moreover, the mellifluous kisses / Of The Sovereign of Songbirds / Will burgeon within, / Will descend upon you as The Holy Dove. / Unfurl your third eye, / See with an indefatigable clarity / All that you were meant to be: / Strong, Wise, Just; / Love; / A luminary fulminating / Radiantly, resplendently upon / The Denizens of the Terrene. / (—Se' lah)
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Sep 9, 2021
Sep 9, 2021 at 12:00 AM UTC
The Celestial Swansong (Originally penned on Monday, September 6th, 2021)
silence sweet silence like none other despite the library door slamming everytime someone leaves or arrives it seems to slam louder when they leave i am not perturbed or distracted, nor am i expecting not to be here, alone, surrounded by books, i just am lamenting this place not being as busy as it should be who’s fault is that? celebrating this place not being as busy as it should be guilty as charged all these faces i see it’s like a small town here sometimes abandoned sometimes inhabited once again, i don’t care how can i? my head, full of Aurelius and Bukowski doesn’t have space to well, deep down, i guess i do care but not as much as i suppose society begs i should how can i? i’m too busy figuring out who i truly am and the books help, Bukowski was correct, these philosophers are like brothers to me and i speculate my deep “connection” to them to men whom i never met yet felt more fatherly care from than my own maybe that’s the root sometimes, all this reading begs the question do i like books more than people? or people more than books? i think i know the answer, eureka! i love books, and individuals alike i don’t like people especially when they group up in congregations and crowds, strangers in a can of sardines with no space to possibly ever care only to survive and barely breathe or to escape such a reality how could i? when they don’t even care for themselves it’s disheartening, really to witness such potential in one soul and watch it ******* melt away around his or her friends around their families’ incessant influence and needs abusing providers consumed by their personal troubles and struggles and vices, infected by the amplification of a hang out girls night boys night the clubs, the bars the gossips of nonsense and **** that simply isn’t their business sewage their obvious and yet radiantly painful, like a sunburn that isn’t on you but hurts to look at on someone else, avoidance of themselves begging the following: could these souls spend an hour, alone, with a book and paper and pencil? how could they? they’d like to, i’m sure, but hate themselves just enough to not be able to. -melancholicreator
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Feb 27, 2024
Feb 27, 2024 at 4:30 PM UTC
can of sardines
silence sweet silence like none other despite the library door slamming everytime someone leaves or arrives it seems to slam louder when they leave i am not perturbed or distracted, nor am i expecting not to be here, alone, surrounded by books, i just am lamenting this place not being as busy as it should be who’s fault is that? celebrating this place not being as busy as it should be guilty as charged all these faces i see it’s like a small town here sometimes abandoned sometimes inhabited once again, i don’t care how can i? my head, full of Aurelius and Bukowski doesn’t have space to well, deep down, i guess i do care but not as much as i suppose society begs i should how can i? i’m too busy figuring out who i truly am and the books help, Bukowski was correct, these philosophers are like brothers to me and i speculate my deep “connection” to them to men whom i never met yet felt more fatherly care from than my own maybe that’s the root sometimes, all this reading begs the question do i like books more than people? or people more than books? i think i know the answer, eureka! i love books, and individuals alike i don’t like people especially when they group up in congregations and crowds, strangers in a can of sardines with no space to possibly ever care only to survive and barely breathe or to escape such a reality how could i? when they don’t even care for themselves it’s disheartening, really to witness such potential in one soul and watch it ******* melt away around his or her friends around their families’ incessant influence and needs abusing providers consumed by their personal troubles and struggles and vices, infected by the amplification of a hang out girls night boys night the clubs, the bars the gossips of nonsense and **** that simply isn’t their business sewage their obvious and yet radiantly painful, like a sunburn that isn’t on you but hurts to look at on someone else, avoidance of themselves begging the following: could these souls spend an hour, alone, with a book and paper and pencil? how could they? they’d like to, i’m sure, but hate themselves just enough to not be able to. -melancholicreator
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99
I don't care if you are the water or the groove of the stone. I want a place In your arms that feels succinctly like home. I want to be encircled like an old oak tree, with a breeze in the air that smells radiantly of you and me. I don't care if you are the tongue or the groove. I want a place within which all these walls I can remove. There is a river that cascades between us that keeps us far from home, but I don't care if you are the cancer or the broken bone. I don't care if you are the sweetest peach or the rattle of the snakes tail. All I want is for you to arise each time you fail. I don't care of you bruise easily or become yellow from the inside out. I don't care if you walk away silently or you scream, stamp your feet and shout. I don't care if you are the water and I am the stone. I do not care if for your secrets I have to atone. I want to you to seek the hiding places I hold so tightly,  and I want you to seek them daily and nightly. I don't care if you think this is overdressed, or I show too much flesh. I want you to see how I look for you when I calmly undress. I don't care if you are the thunder in my storm. I don't care if you call this safety or if you call me home. I don't care if you are the salt or the falling tear. I want you to know that me not caring is not what I fear. I want you to know that true love is true acceptance In it's ultimate form. I don't care to know if you're broken or you are torn. These words I asked you, but they are routine and true. I could repeat , dry my face and carry on, but I don't care to do that for you. I don't care if you are weak and strong together. I care about you whatever the whatever. I don't care if you wish to compete and you have won. I want you to know that those secrets were already awake and done.   I don't care how many times you walk away, I care about the how many times you stay. I don't care, because In the end nothing matters, and in here, we're all mad as hatters.
0
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
Caring too close to the end
I don't care if you are the water or the groove of the stone. I want a place In your arms that feels succinctly like home. I want to be encircled like an old oak tree, with a breeze in the air that smells radiantly of you and me. I don't care if you are the tongue or the groove. I want a place within which all these walls I can remove. There is a river that cascades between us that keeps us far from home, but I don't care if you are the cancer or the broken bone. I don't care if you are the sweetest peach or the rattle of the snakes tail. All I want is for you to arise each time you fail. I don't care of you bruise easily or become yellow from the inside out. I don't care if you walk away silently or you scream, stamp your feet and shout. I don't care if you are the water and I am the stone. I do not care if for your secrets I have to atone. I want to you to seek the hiding places I hold so tightly,  and I want you to seek them daily and nightly. I don't care if you think this is overdressed, or I show too much flesh. I want you to see how I look for you when I calmly undress. I don't care if you are the thunder in my storm. I don't care if you call this safety or if you call me home. I don't care if you are the salt or the falling tear. I want you to know that me not caring is not what I fear. I want you to know that true love is true acceptance In it's ultimate form. I don't care to know if you're broken or you are torn. These words I asked you, but they are routine and true. I could repeat , dry my face and carry on, but I don't care to do that for you. I don't care if you are weak and strong together. I care about you whatever the whatever. I don't care if you wish to compete and you have won. I want you to know that those secrets were already awake and done.   I don't care how many times you walk away, I care about the how many times you stay. I don't care, because In the end nothing matters, and in here, we're all mad as hatters.
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5
In times when she feels crushed and broken, she would watch the tiny messengers of hope. The fireflies’ magical sparks remind her that even a little light can shine in darkness. And when she’s completely torn into bits that’s difficult to piece together, she would look up to the sky and stare at the little messengers of life. The stars remind her that she can still radiantly shine even in pieces.
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Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 1:14 PM UTC
Shine
Suddenly I feel like a man singing painfully in love "When man loves a woman" hear her sing Yesterday Lennon–McCartney Beatles. I've seen seven wonders of the world in your eyes. Your sunsets to make me cry. My moon in all its faces gives shivers to your spine. I see beauty in diamonds synthilating within me same spell sparkles in thee afire rubbies of us reflect radiantly on me. I am ice cubed frozen body mind soul cold a wishful thinking well pennies for my thoughts? Oak tree stump my ancient to willow tree now has turned. Tears put out this fire dear but ambers linger so I write no Knight may fly your kite I give myself everything I got In love I remain with me. I trust in self for my courage to carry on as longing dog out in the rain alone or in.   your scorching sun hear me crying and howling out I love thee so.. ~~~~~~~~~ Karijinbba at Mr. and Mrs. Andrews
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Sep 19, 2021
Sep 19, 2021 at 2:12 PM UTC
Yesterday
A spiritual richness blossoms within When love is shared in a spiritual way The moment selfish lust is cast aside Giving His spiritual love a home to stay For His Living words are very priceless They are the truest of jewels to hold They make your spirit to shine radiantly Much brighter than diamonds or gold Begin your day within His perfect blessing Always seek His spirits love to daily hold And wherever each day you might travel Along side of you His spirit will also go Remember love the Lord God with all your heart With all your mind, and soul, and strength And in keeping with that, love your neighbors As yourself with the love within God did plant
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Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
A Spiritual Richness
Avenging activity among our society Based behind our bravery, Centered in our controlled community Dances our dimes distantly, Eating the Economy entirely, Freeing some family’s from financial stability Giving the Government full guidance to “Give willingly” Help save history and fix the hired hereby diligently Isolating the problem Indefinitely before another civil war breaks out immobilizing us internally, Jacking up jumping prices to live within our jungle of commonality Killing Kids futures by leaving them in debt for keeps of knowledge to secure their vivacity Living our Lives in stress leniently because we are your servants dwelling down here in the low depths of poverty. Massing out our Money on your table tops feasting morbidly on fattening foods while millions suffer from malnutrion Nobody speaking nervously now On the open opinion’s on our governments greed People pacing the streets for a piece to eat Quiet our questions or riots will quake the streets Rage ripping through our roads radiantly So sustain us all seriously separating the needy from situations of squandering Take hold of our Tantrums and turn them on the ones demanding this tangibility You’re yearning for yesterday’s better life Venom of today’s values vast out over our minds When will they welcome the revolution? Xenophobia exerts exteremremitys on our souls Zero Tolerance for Zaberism and Zolism is the way we go.
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May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
Life in the corrupt America
She had a tongue that could open a wine bottle. Razor-sharp articulation. A fine art, some might say. Living sentences on a knifes-edge. It started in a unblunted manner, The force hit smacked splintered minds like a hammer. Honed in cuspate motions, Incisively smashing the nail on the head. She wasn’t wrong often. Vivacious wit vivid oscillating witch, some might say. Not I. I followed in the downstream of her resonance. A quivering wreck, soaked from head to toe in her libretto. She marched in stilettos, locomotive tip-toe motion, devotion to the traverse. Deviating as s he ambulated across lurid cobbled paths. How she manages, alas. Evades my comprehension. She had this brunt agitation, as if, she couldn’t hear the words you say to her. Maybe it was her nescient nature. A think naive conversant, If only it was that simple. Those dimples on her cheeks were like craters in the moon. That cheesy laugh fractures. She escaped from Alcatraz, Caught only by the dereliction, of her minds conviction. Infamy lapsed, as she collapsed in a pretzel of marvellous contortion. She radiantly turned to stone, a statuesque stanza. Cloned in allure, that never found answers she was looking for.
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Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
she had a tongue that could open a wine bottle
The last of God's angels Presence that gracefully push lungs into cessation Beauty that beckons radiantly in the dark Immense, Intense Innocent Winding curves of silk Gently strewn upon the ****** skin of creation Mental fingers running from head to toe Burning, Learning Yearning Coitus whisperings of Heaven Fabrics slowly cascade with ******** revelation Tempting Temptress of the moon-lit night Mentality, Physicality Carnality
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Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 7:03 AM UTC
Innocent Yearning
*There’s a dazzling solitaire Embedded in your heart Love is the brilliant craftsman Every facet shaped carefully Dazzling radiantly, life’s beauty Love felt in every corner Transparency gives way to trust Waiting to be gifted to the worthy Brilliance of your lovely soul Making it the priceless beauty Worthy love shall claim The heart that’s priceless Basking in the sheer finesse*
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 7:52 AM UTC
Dazzling Heart
Jupiter and Venus, radiantly dancing. Proximate partners in a velvet ballroom, somewhere over the eastern trees. Light from a fiery source, transformative and transforming heart and mind of the Universe. Convergence renders conversation almost null and void. Nothing but each other will ever give them peace.
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Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
Dance of Love, and Wisdom
In a midnight lamentation, the soul (suppressed) of reprobation, wallowed in wasted conspiracies- unjust (censored) confirmations. My shoes (foundation) which were half on, stained the beer (love), which was half gone, that he camped- (devoted) so entitled, marvelously, (masculine) so magnificently upon. Ongoing obstacles, alluring alike, repressed restraints depicted, despite- ones that evaded, encompassed our love, which freshly, faithfully, finally took-flight. That beer (blazing) tottered so temping- wrongfully, radiantly, reluctantly-right! It swiveling-and-spinning, (dangling) around the axis of life, Makes this, yet another- lamentation in the night.
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Jul 2, 2010
Jul 2, 2010 at 2:22 AM UTC
Midnight Lament
The beauty of her heart speaks. As she floated freely in the water. Like lotus, she blooms radiantly in the rain. Catching life as it flows. Watching the clouds blown away beyond the sky. Letting the magic of love do what it will.
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Jul 23, 2022
Jul 23, 2022 at 5:26 AM UTC
Sealing a Destiny
Come walk along the cliffs of uncertainty While you search for something delightfully new There wrapped in an air of wondrous mystery you will find Where your imagination can take you too Softly cling to the shadows of infinity Tenuously locked away in an unpredictable hue Lost forever in a world that you can create As you wander away with the moon Radiantly shining like a bead of clear water Such as a taste of the morning’s first dew You can come away to this world and discover How you can become a part of this too Multi-colored butterflies will be dancing in the forest Where the whippoorwills sing to the trees In voices that light up the air so sweet Like golden honey stolen from the hives of bees    Here the untamed sea can be seen forever Stretching endlessly across it seems And you can ride the crashing waves of ivory foam While gliding on a current of dreams The winds incessant voice will ring right through you Whispering of the magical things to be seen When you come away to this fair land of Eden One must be prepared for most anything
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May 28, 2010
May 28, 2010 at 7:01 PM UTC
Imagination
Sometimes I just want to go to a garden And take all the flowers I can clutch in my hands The sweet-smelling, luminous, simple and poisonous (when ingested) Then scurry away before the gardener knows Though I’ve taken bits and pieces of grueling work and pride— To her or him—it’s far more than that, it’s happiness— And a little bit borrowed from a friendly, flowery neighbor Is hardly worth complaining about, maybe even worth a smile And I press the gentle, fragrant ones In the hard covers of my favorite books They’ll last forever, I’m certain And *** the radiantly eye-catching ones In the places so obvious— A mantle, pedestal—always in the corner of my eye I’ll probably put the poisonous Far away from any man Hidden in the depths Still covered yet, concealed to the end— But the simple things in life Are what I hold so fast to me I squeeze the stems and sniff the petals And know now to truly appreciate them
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Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 9:48 AM UTC
Stealing Flowers to Borrow Happiness
Their words lovingly make a daily appearance With a new days birth they seem to find a way Quite like a tremendously beautiful flower Bringing many gorgeous smiles to life each day It matters not which heart gives them life breath Or whose selfless spirit makes them radiantly smile Their priceless messages are embraced lovingly by many As within each one you will find a love worthwhile A daily love which generates an awesome true beauty A unique one which will stand the test of time And whether each writer/poet believes it to be true Their words will age wonderfully like a fine wine For God has blessed everyone with a taste of bliss Of His delightfully joyous creative touch divine And He will allow His sweet happiness to stay As long as we praise Him in our hearts and minds.
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Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 1:59 PM UTC
Written From The Soul