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"radient" poems
So, you're sitting in a doctors room, wondering why you can't stop crying, When he enters saying"It's good news" a result from all that trying. In a haze you drive to tell your mum, she knows from the silly grin, And there and then, you buckle up, this journey is about to begin. So, vomiting and painful ******* and screaming at your husband, Is part and parcel to this little nightmare, nature calls pregnant. Oh, don't forget the stretchmarks, and the piles that grow like grapes, And mood swings, constipation, and eating sticky tape?!, And now you're halfway through your quest, you look so beautiful, Your hair and skin look radient, maintaining health is dutiful, Then little kicks bring on the tears as both of you embrace, And watching as the tv screen shows up a tiny face. As weeks turn into months, you begin the preparation, With practise runs for when its time to get to the nurses station. Your feet have disappeared from sight, no need for the nail clippers, And lack of sympathy from him, as your feet look like fluffy slippers. The lack of room within your womb means little or no sleep, The inability to get up, so give in, stay in the seat, So here we go, your waters break, and hubby thinks you've peed, You tell him"Get the car, or i will squash you like a seed!". The pleas for pain relief and stupid questions from the nurses, You try to answer politely, between the frequent curses, The final throes are happening, you're screaming like a pig, And out she comes, the miracle, "Oh look, isn't she big?!", Then suddenly all the pain and grief are suddenly forgotten, "A boy next" Those famous last words of your poor husband!
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Nov 1, 2009
Nov 1, 2009 at 3:39 AM UTC
From 1 To 9
So, you're sitting in a doctors room, wondering why you can't stop crying, When he enters saying"It's good news" a result from all that trying. In a haze you drive to tell your mum, she knows from the silly grin, And there and then, you buckle up, this journey is about to begin. So, vomiting and painful ******* and screaming at your husband, Is part and parcel to this little nightmare, nature calls pregnant. Oh, don't forget the stretchmarks, and the piles that grow like grapes, And mood swings, constipation, and eating sticky tape?!, And now you're halfway through your quest, you look so beautiful, Your hair and skin look radient, maintaining health is dutiful, Then little kicks bring on the tears as both of you embrace, And watching as the tv screen shows up a tiny face. As weeks turn into months, you begin the preparation, With practise runs for when its time to get to the nurses station. Your feet have disappeared from sight, no need for the nail clippers, And lack of sympathy from him, as your feet look like fluffy slippers. The lack of room within your womb means little or no sleep, The inability to get up, so give in, stay in the seat, So here we go, your waters break, and hubby thinks you've peed, You tell him"Get the car, or i will squash you like a seed!". The pleas for pain relief and stupid questions from the nurses, You try to answer politely, between the frequent curses, The final throes are happening, you're screaming like a pig, And out she comes, the miracle, "Oh look, isn't she big?!", Then suddenly all the pain and grief are suddenly forgotten, "A boy next" Those famous last words of your poor husband!
Continue reading...
26
The desire to show myself Could get me killed With the malicious intentions of the world that I inhabit. The name on my forehead Is that of a caste I am what they say I am born with Then I must tell you that I am born with a gift to create Would you then call me the creator’s own reflection? Leave the question unanswered. I desire to show myself still. I want to tell the world about the art That I had created The covers of the books I designed The books I am about to write. Then I contemplate what I want to share Through this feeling to bare myself naked. I realize that I want to experience The dazzling beauty of the smile Radient on the reader’s lips On the art connoisseur's face The artist that I am And not the illiterate brute that they call me to be. The truth is in my nakedness And I desire to unveil it in front of you It, the cloak of my pen-name, The mask of my unrealized self, The naked body of my noetic being.
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Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 5:30 AM UTC
Getting Naked
Standing outside just to breathe fresh air, maybe I'm pretty dull for enjoying the feeling of standing there. But there's just so much to take in, so much see, so much to hear and feel and experience "here to be". And yet there's something else here, something I can't comprehend. It's a comfort that for as long as I can stand here I cannot understand. But's it's not a feeling of pure madness, I know that feeling is long gone. It's a pleasant aroma, a strengthening touch, and a beautiful song. I don't know if others feel or felt this, but I surely hope some have. It's a feeling better than smiling the widest smile, or the most jolly filled laugh. Now I know why I live here, it's this feeling that I must share, the feeling that can summon so much joy from only standing there
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Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 7:21 AM UTC
The radient calm with contentment
Empty whispers ascending destiny leave a radient glow on the reality of descending lovers.
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Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
balance.
Through a hole in her dilapidated nest, a besotted crow, eyed the moon she loved and longed for. The desire grew, as the moon's smile became intimately radient, as if he yearned to embrace illicitly the magical night, within crow's charmed wings. At  the dead of night when she lost all hopes, and reluctently went to bed, a moon beam, like a thief, crept in,   and slept with the crow's unspoken sadness.
0
Mar 11, 2012
Mar 11, 2012 at 12:59 PM UTC
crow's crazy love with the moon
He was the moon Eclipsed all over my radient heart The world would have seen us But he covered everything in dark In that finite moment We loved and kissed hard Until the rules of the universe Tore us apart.
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May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 2:12 PM UTC
Twilight
She’s as small, yet beautiful As the budding spring leaves She’s as radient and strong As a summer day She’s as colorful and calm As the leaves falling off the autumn trees Her hairs as white, and her mood as soft As a snowflake falling on the ground She's Born budding And She Dies Soft
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Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
Woman of The Year
Oh, I wish the summer would come, So my wonderful leaves would appear, So I could russel in the summer  breeze. So my fruit would grow and be eaten, So my branches would warm up, So I could be bright and beautiful again. I wish I could dance and laugh and play, Just like all the humans all about, I wish I could jump and sing and shout, Just like the humans all about. Oh, I wish the summer would come, So I can be radient and glowing, And so bonnie for all to see.
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Mar 22, 2011
Mar 22, 2011 at 7:57 AM UTC
The Bush
your touch is like electricity in my veins i crave you you're like the sun radient, warm your smile is contageous it could cure anthything, it cured me they say boys are made of snakes and spiders, but they haven't met you you're sweet, you're sensative. everything about you invites me in. the way you caress me when we say our goodbyes, to how you stroke my smoothe skin, showing me that you love me. but what you probably don't know, is that i would cross the 7 seas to kiss you one last time i would climb mountains to see you smile, or to feel your kind embrace because i've never loved someone like i love you. but i'm cold and you burn.
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May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
first poem about you
let the water trickle past your fingers, like memory, falling through the holes in your head, cloudy, tattered. let your head, as fluffy as clouds, brush up against stars, constellations of legends, of sodium and potassium hallucinations. sometimes people lie. let the air brush each and every alveoli of your lungs, each gyri and sulci of your brain. taste the salt -- sweat, the sea, your blood. let the iron, stable, sunbright iron, carry itself with the poise of a red giant -- both radient, striking, bleeding vermillion and crimson. stable, like a mountain, letting rain run itself over with the gentle caress of an old lover, who knows the contours and the dips of the body, and yet is getting -- reacquainted with it, after a long time away. the sweat of the maker sticks to the threads that weave to make the library that makes you, that holds information, holds itself in letters, quartets, spirals. taste the salt. the wind sounds like the sea, outside my bedroom window, when it's too late for my eyes to have not made their coupling of the night. imagine the salt-mist, bright and cold on your face, like the splatter of blood, leaking out of a nose; like a river flowing from precipitation, mist, downstea, rejoining where it once came from, where it was always going to end up. fate is a funny thing. they say that every cell of yours gets replaced every seven years. i wonder how long it takes salt, iron -- to rise and to fall, like the eight minutes the light of the sun follows to get here, to our little pinprick eyes, to our dopamine and norepinephrine, the spikes and dips of neurons, firing. how many heartbeats, breaths? how many crashes of waves?
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Jan 29, 2025
Jan 29, 2025 at 12:26 AM UTC
from water and back again
let the water trickle past your fingers, like memory, falling through the holes in your head, cloudy, tattered. let your head, as fluffy as clouds, brush up against stars, constellations of legends, of sodium and potassium hallucinations. sometimes people lie. let the air brush each and every alveoli of your lungs, each gyri and sulci of your brain. taste the salt -- sweat, the sea, your blood. let the iron, stable, sunbright iron, carry itself with the poise of a red giant -- both radient, striking, bleeding vermillion and crimson. stable, like a mountain, letting rain run itself over with the gentle caress of an old lover, who knows the contours and the dips of the body, and yet is getting -- reacquainted with it, after a long time away. the sweat of the maker sticks to the threads that weave to make the library that makes you, that holds information, holds itself in letters, quartets, spirals. taste the salt. the wind sounds like the sea, outside my bedroom window, when it's too late for my eyes to have not made their coupling of the night. imagine the salt-mist, bright and cold on your face, like the splatter of blood, leaking out of a nose; like a river flowing from precipitation, mist, downstea, rejoining where it once came from, where it was always going to end up. fate is a funny thing. they say that every cell of yours gets replaced every seven years. i wonder how long it takes salt, iron -- to rise and to fall, like the eight minutes the light of the sun follows to get here, to our little pinprick eyes, to our dopamine and norepinephrine, the spikes and dips of neurons, firing. how many heartbeats, breaths? how many crashes of waves?
Continue reading...
81
It came like mist On water at night Slowly But powerfully I didn't even know It was there at first Until it turned my heart From the beating read To the dead black I left all familiarity For hopes of something better Little did I know I was leaving paradise For its nemesis I rolled my life away Like dice Until nothing was left Save that charcoal heart And a feeling of defeat In my mind I had fallen Into a pit Of destruction And slick as the walls were I could not get out I shouted to passersby And cried out for anyone Anything That would save me From this shadow Yet none Would turn aside I wallowed long In my own thoughts And searched for another way If only I could find a foothold I could climb out on my own For days I attempted escape Only to fall again and again Until I was so broken I could try no more And it was there Deeply submerged In darkness And despair That my soul sang An old song Like a prayer answered In my misery And inability I saw a man Glowing And more radient than any Sunset Climb down to join me Taking my hand, He helped me to my feet and suggested That I make use Of His shoulders Standing then, upon them, I found myself able To reach the top Looking back Unto my Savior, There was now no way for Him to climb out "Good sir, how, now do you make your escape?" He spoke softly "My job is done, it is finished, Pass on now to freedom, Go now back home
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Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 1:52 PM UTC
Final Words
You describe yourself In impossible ways Your skin is lumenous Your heart is golden Your eyes are radient I'm thinking you should stay away From metal detectors
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Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 8:25 PM UTC
Beep beep beep beep
I was dry Laying on land breathing clean air Bathing in radient light But I got hot I grew restless I couldn’t take that bright sun So I tried to take a quick dip But I got carried away and took the plunge Now I’m splashing helplessly And the cold water’s stinging me It’s covering me And becoming me Dragging me down Deeper and deeper Further and Further Into the dark abyss The hellacious unknown I can’t reach the surface now I’m continuously struggling So I’ll give up and go down Letting it take me Becoming tangled in kelp And I’ll bury my head beneath the sand I’ll take one last look Up at the sun I once knew At the place where I once was I’ll close my eyes Let the darkness and engulf me And let go.
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Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
Letting it Take Me
I know I'm cumbersome I know i can seem like a test something you need to overcome the one bad apple in your basket. I know i doesn't meet your expectation. This world doesnt meet mine either. the very air seems to be suffering for anxiety and reactive depression, understand, its in the ether You know I'm an apathetic empath, felt every kind of woe know life's too short always being sad, all i can do is wait see what life has in store. I identify with nothing but myself, no delegation Now all i know's is love no hopes no segregation no disappointments because no expectation. i would do the absurd, accomplish the impossible to have true joy. radient like a triangle carried by birds, I Tried to fool the system like the horse did troy.
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Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 3:13 PM UTC
Untitled
Eyes that gleamed so bright, and a voice deeper than the ocean. Tall as a mountain, strong as the wind. Veiny hands and a radient smile. Oh, how I wish he was mine.
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Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 10:09 PM UTC
G II
a bird, in flight, caught between heaven and earth set on outstretched wing with radient sunset behind now that is poetry to soothe a rattled mind.
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May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 12:52 AM UTC
notes from a far better pen
The star in the sky and the aliens march The star in the sky shines into the midst of a summer nights glory of the sky of love making waves into the mist of the midnight sky. Travel like the speed of sound though a great universe upon a time travel into space to a great land of unknown hope and spear itself high into a land forgotten and unknown by life. A alien stands out from the crowds as it looks into the great unknown from its sparkling and radient craft and looks out to wander and watch among the deadly night holding out its flashing and jumping hands it covers the world with its eyes watch it peer out from a moonlight sky looking and signals with its powerful robust arms thousands of aliens descend upon our dear land to ravage and probe and clutch our people hiding in sheltered lands copyright produced and written by wayne mockler
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Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 2:26 PM UTC
The star in the sky and the aliens march
I don’t even know myself anymore. I look myself in the mirror and I see this girl who isn’t me. That girl I see in the mirror..her eyes look dead. They look empty. She’s crying, tears falling from her dull blue eyes; her eyes used to be so radient and happy. Her wrists, shredded up, along with her thighs. What happened? A few months ago there were no scars or cuts. She made herself into a hideous monster. Oh I’m not done yet. This girl, her words cut through people like a razor; just like the ones she used, she has no sympathy. She’s lost, panicking, you can see her anxiety rising, ripping away at her second by second. In the mirror you see her family, they look upset; she did that to them. They’re yelling, threatening. Her anxiety builds up more. Her family leaves, letting her cry alone. She can’t quite say anything right, and ends up taking it out on her beloved friends. She can’t take it anymore. She wants out, but she can’t leave. This girl in the mirror isn’t me, but she won’t leave. This girl creeps up on me, and she scares me.
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Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC
Untitled